


Beneath a Moonless Sky

by Psychotic_Jedi



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychotic_Jedi/pseuds/Psychotic_Jedi
Summary: Raoul, curious as to the fate of the Phantom, repeatedly visits his lair below the Opera House.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE be mindful of the content tags. This story contains rape and verbal abuse. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> This story takes place 3 months after the fire at the end of the 2004 movie, so the story title is misleading- this story has nothing to do with Love Never Dies, or the instances surrounding the song Beneath a Moonless Sky. After writing this story I was at a loss as to a title, and Beneath a Moonless Sky was the only thing that came to mind. If you have any suggestions as to a different title, I am open to them. 
> 
> My Erik is a combination of Leroux, Kay, and the 2004 movie. Or, basically my own creation.
> 
> Please review. Your comments and encouragement keep me writing.
> 
> I thank you.
> 
> ~PJ

* * *

 

 

 

**Beneath a Moonless Sky**

 

 

Raoul looked at his new wife sleeping peacefully beside him, and resigned himself to another sleepless night. He fell on his back and gave a frustrated sigh.

 

The urgent feelings had only increased as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months….

 

 _I need to know… I_ **_have_ ** _to know… to know if_ **_he_ ** _is still alive...a body was never recovered…_

 

Raoul turned his head to look at Christine.

 

_If only I could tell you… speak to you of my true feelings, of my true passions… I have lived this lie for far too long, and I cannot hold back my inner demons… Christine, you are beautiful to me… but I do not love you._

 

Raoul slowly and silently slid away from her and sat at the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his wrists over his eyes, desperately trying to erase the thoughts raging through his mind.

 

He turned back to look at Christine. _It is not too late- I should be back before morning. No one will miss me._

 

Dressing quickly, he rushed to the stables and saddled his favorite horse.  The incredible sense of urgency that rose in him was familiar, and he spurred his horse, wanting to reach his destination as quickly as possible. There was no moon, but the horse was familiar with the path, and Raoul trusted him to follow it.

 

_Christine was not the only one to be enchanted by your voice…when I first heard you, I was frightened, but intrigued…_

 

Raoul urged his horse to go faster. The hot summer air made him sweat, but he was not bothered by it. He knew that where he was going would cool him instantly.

 

_In the Opera House, the graveyard, and Don Juan…I ached when I heard you sing… but you only had eyes for Christine…. I found myself hating her…_

 

The Opera  Populaire- once a beautiful building, the crowned jewel of Paris, now a burned out shell, still reeking of wet and burned wood. Even in the moonless night, Raoul easily found the small window he and Christine had escaped through on the night of the blazing inferno. A different fire burned in him tonight, and, as with all the other times he had come, his stomach twisted in a way that made him both nervous and excited.

 

_I bested you in the graveyard, but I did not mean to hurt you…. I would not have struck you down…_

 

His burning desire only increased as Raoul hurried down the stairs and through the seemingly endless tunnels to the shore of an ice cold lake. He felt his way to where he knew a small boat would be. With trembling fingers, he lit the tiny candle inside of a small lantern on the boat’s bow. He squinted at the sudden light, but did not hesitate as he rowed across the lake. When he finally stepped onto the opposite shore, an intense wave of memory washed over him.

 

_So much has happened here…._

 

Raoul took the small lantern and held it up high as his gaze traveled around the ransacked cavern. As he always did, he began a slow walk through it, occasionally stopping to pick up pieces of broken glass and porcelain, torn sheets of music, book pages ripped from their covers. He placed these items near the only piece of furniture that had been left untouched- a beautiful swan bed, its curtains and coverings flawless save for a fine layer of dust that lay upon them.

 

He turned and looked at the shattered pipe organ. _I wish you were here… one day you will meet me here…one day I will hear your voice again…_

 

“My dear Vicomte, you flatter me,” came a deep, musical voice just over his shoulder.

 

Raoul gave a mightly flinch and dropped the lantern. It shattered, and darkness descended. He could not move.

 

“You have come here many times,” the voice continued derisively. “Will you return often to celebrate your triumph over me?”

 

Ice cold hands fell on Raoul’s shoulders, pulling him backwards. His back collided with the Phantom’s body and he felt hot breath on his neck. “Or do you come seeking something else?”

 

Raoul shook involuntarily. _That voice… that beautiful voice…_

 

“Your body betrays you, Vicomte,” the Phantom whispered in his ear.

 

Raoul turned and saw yellow cat eyes glaring down at him. He reached out and felt for the Phantom’s arm. Finally finding it, he pushed the cold hand down into his trousers.

 

“Ah, I see,” the Phantom said, mocking him. Raoul could hear the disdain in his voice. “Not happy with your bride, are you, so you come seeking Erik, The Phantom, the lowliest of men!”

 

_Erik… his name is Erik…at last, I know…_

 

Erik removed his hand and brought it to Raoul’s waist. With a quick jerk he pulled Raoul’s trousers down and took his throbbing desire in his cold hands. His fingers probed him roughly. Raoul gasped as he held tightly to Erik’s wrists, silently begging him to continue.

 

Erik pulled his hands away and pushed Raoul through the bed curtain. Raoul put his hands out in front of him, groping blindly for what was in front of him. His midsection collided with the bed frame, bending him over it. Erik held him there and removed his own trousers, pressing his silky need against Raoul’s naked backside.

 

“You have never had to beg for anything before, have you,” Erik hissed. “I want you to beg me.”

 

Raoul struggled against Erik’s strong arms in vain. Erik brushed his fingers over Raoul’s opening, gently probing him. Raoul’s muscles clenched, and he gave an involuntary sigh of pleasure.

 

Erik bent over him. “I can please you in ways you have never imagined,” he said seductively. “But you have to beg me.”

 

Erik ran a cold hand down Raoul’s spine, causing him to shiver. “Beg me,” he whispered.

 

Erik moved himself closer to Raoul’s opening, teasing him. “Beg me!”

 

Raoul clenched his hands to the bed frame and finally gasped out, “Yes… please, Erik…”

 

Erik raked his fingernails across Raoul’s back, and Raoul hissed in pain. “ ‘Please Erik’ ” he mocked. “And what am I promised in return? You took everything from me! I owe you nothing.”

 

Raoul pushed himself back against him. “Please Erik… I am in agony…”

 

Erik released his hold and stepped back. “No.”

 

A cold void descended on Raoul. He rose and reached out, searching the darkness desperately.

 

“You asked me to beg,” he cried, “I am begging!”

 

“And the dear Vicomte always gets what he wants,” Erik snarled. He paused, then said, “You have hid your feelings well. At one point you were ready to kill me.”

 

“You know better than anyone that you must lie to protect yourself!” Raoul cried. “My whole life has been a lie-“

 

“That must be difficult for you.” Erik’s voice shook with rage.

 

Raoul staggered towards him in the darkness, nearly tripping over the trousers at his feet. “I can buy you a comfortable place to live,” he said desperately. “Your every need will be provided for-“

 

“You cannot buy me!” Erik thundered. “I am not a possession!”

 

“I- I need you, Erik,” Raoul said, his voice breaking. “Just this once… then you will never see me again.”

 

When Erik did not answer, Raoul cried out, “I am begging you, Erik… please…”

 

Suddenly Raoul felt Erik’s hot breath above him. He grabbed Raoul’s shirt. “Kneel.” He pushed Raoul to his knees. “Take me into your mouth.”

 

Raoul complied eagerly, holding tightly to Erik’s thigh with one hand as he caressed and teased his silky and throbbing need with the other. When he heard Erik groan and gasp above him, Raoul increased his ministrations, gently nipping with his teeth and sucking the smooth and swollen skin. When Erik gave a final gasp and released, Raoul swallowed, relishing the taste of him. He again took Erik’s need into his hands, caressing him until he felt it swell.

 

Erik took hold of Raoul’s shoulders and pulled him up. He again pushed Raoul towards the bed. Raoul tripped over his trousers and grunted with pain as his waist collided with the bed frame. Erik’s strong arms bent him over it and held him there.

 

“Enjoying yourself, are you Vicomte?” Erik whispered harshly.

 

An intense pain Raoul had never before felt stabbed through him as Erik slid mercilessly inside him. Raoul screamed in agony and struggled against him, but Erik held him firmly. Raoul’s own desperate need burst from him, dripping down his legs and onto the floor.

 

Erik grabbed a handful of Raoul’s hair and twisted it in his fingers. “Is this not what you wanted?” he growled. “Is this not what you begged for?”

 

Erik moved against him viciously, seeming to be encouraged by Raoul’s desperate screams. Raoul writhed and twisted, but was not able to break Erik’s hold. The pain did not lessen as Erik finished and withdrew from him. Raoul collapsed onto the floor, gasping and sobbing.

 

A bright light stabbed through the darkness as Erik lit a candle. Raoul looked at him through tear filled eyes. His mask had fallen off, revealing the horrifying, skeletal face beneath. Although Erik was the source of his pain, Raoul thought him beautiful. Erik caught him staring, and glared back at him, his cat-like eyes flashing. He put the candle on the floor, pulled his trousers up around his exposed flesh, then quickly replaced his mask. He placed the candle in a broken lantern and hung it on the bow of the boat.  

 

Erik returned to Raoul and stood over him, nudging him with his boot.  “You have received what you came for. Now leave me.”

 

Raoul groaned painfully as he tried to rise. His muscles failed him and he collapsed again, crying out as he hit the floor.

 

Erik stared down at him, a smirk on his face. “You disgust me.”

 

Erik took Raoul’s arm and lifted him, then put his arm around his waist and dragged him roughly to the boat. Raoul collapsed against it, gasping painfully, tears continuing to stream down and drip from his face.

 

Raoul looked at Erik standing above him like a beautiful avenging angel, wanting to burn his image into his memory. He reached for his leg.

 

“I told you to leave, you stupid, worthless, naïve shell of a man!” Erik shouted.

 

Raoul turned back to the boat and as he struggled to pull up his trousers, he noticed for the first time that they were soaked with the blood running down his legs. Too agonized to think on it, he climbed painfully into the boat and began to row away. Raoul turned back to see Erik fade into the darkness.

 

_Oh God, what have I done?_

  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul returns to Erik's lair at Erik's request.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Beneath a Moonless Sky**

  
  
  
  
  


Raoul sat at his desk in his study, shuffling papers and marking account ledgers, his mind occupied by the business of keeping the De Chagny estate running efficiently. He frowned when he saw a bill from the gardener. 

 

_ Five hundred francs for a man to harvest turnips? _

  
  
A knock sounded at his door.   
  
  
“Come.”   
  
  
The door opened and his butler entered. “Post for you, Monsieur le Vicomte, and luncheon is served.”   
  
  
“Yes, thank you, Durand, I shall be down shortly.” Durand passed him a pile of envelopes and departed.   
  
  
Raoul looked through them and raised his eyebrows.  _ A bill for saddle grooming oils? Phillipe would have us starve for his vanity…. _   
  
  
Raoul continued to examine each letter until he saw a small piece of paper flutter out of one of the envelopes. He picked it up and froze, instantly recognizing the fine hand written there:   
  
  
**_Come to me tonight_ **   
  
  
He stared at the note for several minutes, turning it over and over in his hands, his breath coming in sharp bursts.   
  
  
_ But he despises me… hates me… I am nothing to him… _   
  
  
Raoul stood and walked to the blazing fire in his hearth. He crumpled the paper and threw it in, watching as it burned to nothing.   
  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  
  
Raoul entered the dining area swiftly. “My apologies, Christine, Phillipe, Amelie,” he said, rushing to his setting. “I was quite preoccupied.”   
  
  
“If you are to successfully run this estate while I am away, you must better manage your time, Raoul,” Phillipe said sternly.   
  
  
The woman to Phillipe’s left put a hand on his arm. “Do not be so stern, Phillipe,” she said. “It has only been two weeks since you made him Master of the house.”   
  
  
Phillipe looked at her and smiled. “As you wish, my dear.” He turned back to Raoul. “Amelie and I will be leaving for our honeymoon next month and shall return in three months’ time. I trust we will not find the estate in ruins.”   
  
  
“You must have more confidence in your brother, Phillipe,” Christine said severely. “He has done nothing as of yet to the detriment of the household.”   
  
  
Phillipe frowned and did not reply.   
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
After luncheon Raoul returned to his study, but could not concentrate. The writing on the note burned through him:   
  
  
**_Come to me tonight_ **   
  
  
Raoul paced the floor, cursing the uninvited passion that coursed through his veins. He felt heat in his groin as his body responded to memories of that night…   
  
  
**_Vicomte, you flatter me…_ **   
  
  
Raoul bent over his desk, his mind racing.  _ I cannot go there, not tonight, not ever… _ _   
_   
  
Raoul jumped when he heard the door behind him open. He turned to see Christine entering with a smile on her face. She walked to him and put her arms around his waist.   
  
  
“Do not mind Phillipe,” she said gently. “He only wants you to succeed.”   
  
  
Raoul held her tightly. “He is more like our father than he would care to admit.”   
  
  
“He is angered by the fact that you preceded him in marriage by almost a year,” Christine said, smiling. “And that you are soon to be a father.”   
  
  
Raoul pulled back from her and gave her swollen stomach a concerned look. “You should be resting, Christine.”   
  
  
She took his arm and gestured to the door. “I will, after our walk.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
Raoul had always enjoyed their daily walks, but they had become shorter and shorter due to the colder weather and Christine’s pregnancy. They decided to take a turn around a small garden at the back of the house.   
  
  
The sun reflecting off of the white snow made Raoul’s eyes hurt.   
  
  
**_Come to me tonight_ **   
  
  
“You are miles away, Raoul,” Christine said.   
  
  
Raoul jumped slightly and turned his head to look at her. “Oh, I am sorry, my dear,” he said.   
  
  
“I have been talking these five minutes,” Christine scolded him. “Have you heard nothing I have said?”   
  
  
“I am worried that I will not run the estate as well as Phillipe wishes,” Raoul said.   
  
  
Christine squeezed his arm. “You will do fine, Raoul. You should not worry so much.”   
  
  
Raoul smiled and kissed her. “And now, we must return to the house, for you need rest. I want my son to be healthy and strong.”   
  
  
Christine frowned slightly as they followed the path back to the house. “You keep saying that. Are you so sure?”   
  
  
“Yes,” Raoul said with a smile. “It is just a feeling, but a sure feeling.”   
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
Raoul returned to his study and forced himself to focus on the affairs of the estate. He was so intent on his work that he did not notice that the day was swiftly ending. When Durand appeared announcing dinner, Raoul asked to have it brought to him. 

 

“Please apologize to Christine and Phillipe. I have much more I need to do.”   
  
  
It was after ten o’clock before Raoul entered his sleeping chamber. Christine lay there looking peaceful and beautiful. He walked to the bedside, bent down and kissed her. 

 

_ Christine forgive me… please forgive me…. _   
  
  
Cursing himself, Raoul dressed warmly and hurried to the stables.   
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
  
The sense of urgency Raoul had felt before was absent as he made his way to the Opera House and then down to the lake. More curious than anxious, he lit the broken lamp on the boats’ bow and began to row. As he neared the far shore, he saw a tall candle burning close to the water. Stepping from the boat, he picked up the candle and held it above him. Nothing had changed in the cavern.   
  
  
He started when he heard footsteps, then Erik walked into the light. Raoul’s heart leapt at the sight of him.   
  
  
Erik looked thinner than Raoul remembered, his tattered and worn clothing barely clinging to him. Erik’s mask was tarnished but still clung tightly to his face. His cold cat-like eyes passed over Raoul.   
  
  
Raoul tried not to shiver. “It has been six months, Erik. Why am I here?”   
  
  
“I cannot answer that for you,” Erik said. 

 

His voice was still intoxicating and beautiful to Raoul, but not as harsh as it had been on their previous meeting.

 

“You asked me,” Raoul said, his voice rising. He took a halting step towards Erik. “And I am here.”

  
  
Erik smirked. “I did not realize I had that strong of a hold on you.”   
  
  


“Then why send me the note?” Raoul demanded. “Do I have that strong of a hold on  _ you _ ?”   
  
  
Erik looked away from him.

 

Raoul thought he looked nervous.

 

“I hear you are soon to be a father,” Erik said.

  
  
Raoul was mystified as to how Erik came to know this, but said, “Yes. The child arrives next month.” 

 

Raoul stepped even closer and looked up at him, trying to catch his eyes. “Why did you ask me here, Erik?” he asked again.   
  
  


When Erik finally met his eyes, Raoul was surprised to find desperation in them. 

 

“I… need you,” he finally said through gritted teeth. “Damn me to hell… I need you.” Erik clenched his fists. “You came to me… sought me out… you  _ desired  _ me…. I’ve never had that…” He bit his lip, drawing blood.

 

Raoul tried not to let his surprise show. 

 

The two men stood staring at each other for several long moments. 

 

Raoul turned away, dropping the candle into the water. He stepped into the boat. “If my memory serves me well, you were not so eager for my company when last we met,” he said angrily.   
  
  
As Raoul began to row, Erik walked to the shoreline and watched him sadly, his pride too great to call him back.   
  
  
Raoul was near the opposite shore when he hesitated.  _ Erik would never admit to needing anything…  _   
  


Hoping that he would not regret his decision, Raoul turned the boat and rowed back. Erik was still standing near the shore, and he raised his drooping shoulders at Raoul’s approach. Hope replaced sadness in his eyes as Raoul stepped from the boat once more and stood before him. 

 

Erik could not hide his desire.

 

Raoul stepped closer to him and hesitantly pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.

 

Erik’s whole body tensed as Raoul teased open his lips with his tongue, then he gave an involuntary moan as Raoul slowly explored his mouth.

 

When Raoul finally released him, Erik’s breath burst out in short gasps and shudders.   
  
  
“I will not ask you to beg,” Raoul said softly. “I will not torment and abuse you as you did me.”   
  
  
Erik opened his eyes and looked at Raoul sadly. “I would not blame you if you did.”   
  
  
Erik took Raoul’s arm and led him to the swan bed. Throwing the curtains aside and ripping the coverings off, he fell into it and pulled Raoul on top of him. Erik pulled at Raoul’s clothing eagerly, then Raoul stopped him.   
  


“I want to enjoy this,” he whispered as he looked down at Erik. “We do not need to rush.”   
  
  
In the faint light, Raoul could just make out the frustration in Erik’s eyes, but he said nothing.   
  
  
Raoul rolled to the side and Erik sat up. They both removed their shoes then sat looking at each other shyly. Raoul reached for Erik’s coat and pulled it off him, then slowly removed his shirt, taking his mask with it. He saw that Erik’s deformity was not limited to his face- his neck and chest wore the same twisted and ruined flesh. Erik lowered his eyes in shame and embarrassment. Raoul touched his deformed chest tenderly, then leaned over to kiss his neck. Erik shuddered as Raoul’s lips moved over his jaw, his ear, across his face and then his mouth. Not wanting to end the kiss, Erik took hold of Raoul’s coat and pushed it off him, and it was quickly followed by Raoul’s jacket. Pausing only to remove Raoul’s shirt, they rose to their knees on the bed, their mouths again colliding with renewed passion. When Erik reached for Raoul’s trousers, Raoul again stopped him.   


  
He smiled against Erik’s mouth. “Slowly,” he said. “Remember, I want to enjoy this.”   
  
  
Erik groaned. “You are teasing me,” he growled.   
  
  
Raoul took hold of Erik’s waistband and reached inside, his hand coming to rest on the silky hardness he felt there. Erik gasped as Raoul’s fingers explored him, and rocked against them as Raoul pressed and stroked him. Erik put his arms around Raoul’s shoulders, holding him tightly and breathlessly whispering for him to continue. Encouraged, Raoul explored Erik further, causing him to groan and dig his fingers into Raoul’s back. When Erik gave a final gasp and released, Raoul removed his hand and tasted his fingers.   
  


"Just as I remember,” he whispered.  
  
  
Erik held him tightly, kissing the perfect flesh of his neck, chest, and face. He then reached for Raoul’s trousers, and gave him a questioning look. When Raoul nodded, Erik pulled Raoul’s trousers down to his knees, then pushed Raoul back into the softness of the bed. Erik quickly removed them, then knelt by the bedside and put Raoul’s legs over his shoulders. Holding tightly to Raoul’s waist, Erik teased him with his lips and his breath until Raoul’s back arched with pleasure. He took Raoul into his mouth, running his tongue over Raoul’s pulsing need. Raoul put his hands on Erik’s head, pushing him down, breathlessly begging him to continue. Erik sucked and softly bit, exploring with his fingers and tongue, making Raul moan and gasp. With a cry Raoul let go into Erik’s mouth. Rising from his knees, Erik lowered himself gently on top of Raoul and kissed him.  
  
  
  
“You taste good,” he whispered passionately, and felt his own desire rise up. Raoul looked down and gave a small laugh.  
  
  
“Again?”  
  
  
At Erik’s blush, Raoul turned over. “I am trusting you,” he said, looking back at Erik.  
  
  
Erik lay down beside him. “If you don’t want me to…”  
  
  
Raoul looked at him tenderly and ran a hand over Erik’s ruined face. “I want you to,” he said.  
  
  
When Erik slowly slid into him, Raoul gasped in pain and Erik froze. 

 

“No…” Raoul said, moaning. “Don’t stop….please don’t stop…”   
  
  
The pain was nothing in comparison to the pleasure Raoul felt as Erik moved within him, and their moans and gasps mingled together in a symphony of passion.   
  
  
When Erik’s need was spent, he withdrew from Raoul and collapsed beside him. Raoul turned and put an arm over him, pulling him close. 

 

“Thank you.”

  
  
Erik’s yellow eyes looked at him questioningly.   
  
  
“For asking me here,” Raoul said, kissing Erik’s chest.   
  
  
“I needed you,” Erik whispered. “It has been agony for me…” 

  
  
Erik shuddered, and Raoul felt something drip onto his head. Reaching up, he found Erik’s face wet with tears.   
  
  
“Erik, what-“   
  
  
“I have never had this…,” Erik said softly. “I have never felt this…” His hand clenched on Raoul’s back. “You cannot imagine how I was treated as a child, my own mother never held me, or loved me… she hated me...I was a burden to her…” He brought his hand to the back of Raoul’s head and pressed him to his chest. “And then the circus-“   
  
  
Raoul wiped Erik’s tears away. “Do not speak of it, it will only ruin you.”   
  
  
Erik kissed his shoulder, softly, tenderly. “I need you… I think I always will…” He pulled back reached for Raoul’s desire, massaging him gently. “I need this…please…”   
  
  
“I do not want to hurt you, Erik,” Raoul said.   
  
  
Erik looked down at him, his yellow eyes glimmering. “It’s okay.”   
  
  
Raoul moved from Erik’s side, and gently pushed him onto his chest. He pulled Erik’s end up and pressed his need against Erik’s cold skin. Raoul waited a few moments, then slowly slid himself inside. Raoul heard a hissing intake of breath as Erik arched his back and opened his mouth in a silent scream, his own desire bursting and dripping onto the bed. Raoul heard him groan painfully. Raoul moved to pull out, but Erik reached back and grabbed his wrist, holding him there. Erik waited, then pulled Raoul to him again, rocking slowly forward. Erik gasped in pain, then slowly he began to feel the intense pleasure of having Raoul inside him. Raoul moved against him gently, moaning as he felt Erik’s muscles clench against him. After one final thrust, Raoul withdrew, and together they collapsed onto the bed, gasping.   
  
  
They lay there looking at each other, their bodies sweaty and flushed. Raoul shivered in the cold, and Erik pulled him close. 

 

Raoul kissed him. “I need to go. I cannot be away for too long.”   
  
  
Erik held him fast. “No… you could stay here…”   
  
  
Raoul gently but forcefully pushed Erik from him. “You know I can’t, Erik.” Raoul rose from the bed and slowly began to dress.   
  
  
Erik rested his head on his arm and looked at Raoul longingly. “When will I see you again?”   
  
  
“I do not know,” Raoul said, standing. “Not until after the baby is born.” He gave Erik a rueful smile. “I must play the role of dutiful husband. It is not easy.”   
  
  
Erik rose from the bed and followed Raoul to the shoreline of the lake. Raoul gave him one final passionate kiss, and again felt Erik respond with passion. Raoul caressed him gently, then climbed into the boat.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik has a late night visit to the De Chagny estate.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Beneath a Moonless Sky**

 

  
  
  
  


Christine screamed and grabbed fistfulls of the sheets she lay upon. Her body writhed in agony. 

 

“Yes, now push one more time, Vicomtess, I can see the baby’s head,” the doctor said gently. 

 

“Vicomte, you really should not be here.”

 

The midwife stood at the beside, glaring down to where Raoul held Christine.

 

“This is my first child, Madame, and I will not miss the birth,” Raoul said firmly.

 

The midwife’s lips formed a hard line, but she remained silent. She mopped Christine’s sweat covered face with a wet cloth.

 

Christine screamed one final time, then there was a sound of gushing liquid and the shrill cry of the newborn.

 

“It is a boy, Monsieur,” the doctor said, looking at Raoul.

 

“A boy,” Christine gasped. “You were right, Raoul.”

 

Raoul held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “What would you like to name him?”

 

Christine smiled up at him. “I think you should name him, Raoul. It was you who said the child would be a son.”

 

For a moment Raoul entertained the thought of naming him Erik, but said instead,  “I think his name should be Philipe, after my father and brother.”

 

Just as the midwife placed Philipe in Christine’s arms, there was a sharp knock on the door and Raoul’s brother poked his head in. 

 

“May I see the baby?” 

 

Raoul smiled at the sound of eagerness in his voice. He nodded, and in three quick strides Philipe was at the bedside.

 

“We have decided to name him Philipe,” Raoul said. “After you and father.”

 

Philipe’s jaw clenched and he turned his head and coughed. Raoul recognized the gesture as one that their father had done every time he wanted to avoid showing any kind of emotion.

 

Once a kind and compassionate man, their father had become very harsh and critical when his wife had suddenly died. He had never failed to correct his sons if they showed any kind of behaviour that he felt would bring shame on the De Chagny name. Very rarely would they see the person that he used to be, but when they did, they treasured those moments. Philipe was very like him, although not as harsh, and Raoul knew that naming his son Philipe had pleased his brother immensely.

 

Philipe put a hand on Raoul’s shoulder. “Father would be proud of you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Two weeks later, Philipe and Amelie were married. It was a grand affair, and the estate was filled to the brim with the Paris elite. Christine was absent from the celebration, as she was still recovering from the baby’s birth. Raoul found himself feeling extremely jealous of her as he made his rounds among the guests, engaging in forced and boring conversation. After a few hours of this, he made his way to a corner and proceeded to make himself overwhelmingly drunk.

 

When at last the festivities ended, the estate slowly emptied and Raoul staggered to his feet. He murmured slurred goodbye’s to the few who bid him farewell, and out of the corner of his eye spotted Philipe and Amelie rushing to the upper rooms that had been prepared for their wedding night. Raoul remained in his spot until servants started arriving to clean up. 

 

“Are you alright, Monsieur le Vicomte?” Durand asked.

 

Raoul staggered against his butler. “If you would assist me to my sleeping chamber, it would be much appreciated.”

 

Durand and another servant almost carried Raoul to the room next to Christine’s where he would stay until she recovered. He collapsed into the bed and his servants removed his shoes before bidding him goodnight and departing. 

 

A few moments later, Raoul heard a light tapping on his balcony door. He slowly rolled onto his side and squinted, barely able to make out Erik’s tall form standing there. He gestured for him to enter.

 

Raoul welcomed the cold blast that hit him as Erik opened the balcony door. Closing it quickly, Erik walked silently to the bed and sat. His yellow eyes sparkled in the darkness of the room. He reached out and put a cold hand on Raoul’s cheek.

 

“You shouldn’t be here, Erik,” Raoul said weakly. “There are servants and house guests everywhere. Someone may see you.”

 

Erik smiled. “The servants are busy and the guests are either sleeping or otherwise occupied.” He ran his hand slowly through Raoul’s hair. “I have been watching the estate all day, waiting to see you.”

 

“Still, it is dangerous. The gendarmes are still looking for you.”

 

Erik laughed softly. “I am a ghost, remember? Evasion and escape are my speciality.”

 

Raoul smiled and closed his eyes. “I am afraid I will not be the best of company tonight. The events of today have caused me to seek solace in drink.”

 

Erik slowly unbuttoned Raoul’s shirt and placed a hand on his chest, then replaced it with his lips. Raoul shuddered with pleasure. Erik straddled him and his lips continued to trace a line up Raoul’s chest to his neck and then his jaw. 

 

"Then just let me enjoy you,” he whispered hotly into Raoul’s ear.

 

Erik pulled Raoul’s trousers off and massaged him gently. Although Raoul’s desire did not respond, he gasped and moaned as Erik took him into his mouth.

 

“You are my one addiction, my one weakness,” Erik whispered against him. 

 

He moved to Raoul’s side and took his hand, pressing it to his own silky hardness. “This is what you do to me.”

 

Raoul rubbed and squeezed him, making Erik gasp with a hissing intake of breath. Erik rolled Raoul onto his stomach and slid roughly inside him, making him grunt in pain. Erik felt instant shame.

 

“I’m sorry, Raoul-”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Raoul said. “I love the feel of you.”

 

Erik rocked against him slowly and methodically, wanting to make the moment last. Raoul moaned and gasped with pleasure until Erik finished and lay down beside him. 

 

Raoul reached for Erik’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “You must go now,” he said sleepily. “It is not safe for you here.” 

 

“I will, once you are asleep,” Erik whispered. “Until then, I just want to hold you.”

 

Erik held Raoul to him tightly until he felt Raoul’s grip on his hand slacken and his breathing slow and deepen. He slowly slid from the bed and stared at Raoul’s sleeping form as he dressed. He pressed a hand over his heart as an unfamiliar wave of emotion washed over him.

 

_ Could it be…? No… I had not thought myself capable... _

 

Erik bent and pressed a soft kiss to Raoul’s brow, then opened the balcony doors and disappeared into the moonless night.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Beneath a Moonless Sky**

 

**Chapter 4**

 

 

  
  


Raoul woke to a harsh voice calling his name and a hand shaking his shoulder. He opened an eye and looked up to see Philipe standing over him.

 

“We are leaving for Italy, Raoul,” he said. “Do not expect us back for three months, at least. See that you take good care of the estate, and my nephew.”

 

Raoul tried to sit up, but the pounding in his head prevented him from doing so. “Travel in safety, Philipe,” he said. “Write when you can, and tell us of your adventures.”

 

Philipe smiled and swiftly departed. 

 

Raoul rolled over and went back to sleep.

 

****

 

Several weeks passed before Raoul was able to steal away to Erik’s cavern. As he made his way down the staircases, a faint and haunting tune reached his ears, and it rose and fell in sorrow as he drew closer to the sound. The strings of the violin seemed to cry out the anguish of a person forgotten, unwanted, unloved. Raoul stepped from the boat and stood frozen in his spot, his heart and mind captivated by the terrible beauty of Erik’s music. 

 

In the faint light Raoul could just make out Erik’s thin form standing on the far side of the swan bed. His mask was off and his eyes were squeezed shut, and Raoul could see faint trails of tears streaming down his deformed cheeks. Erik played and held one low and sad note, paused briefly, then began playing a joyful and jubilant tune, one that carried Raoul on a journey to far away lands, strange and exotic, yet intriguing and full of adventure. Raoul closed his own eyes and let himself become lost in the music. When he finally came back to himself, he realized that the music had stopped. He opened his eyes to find Erik looking at him curiously.

 

Raoul gave him a small smile. “I’ve never heard you play before. It was beautiful.”

 

Erik gently placed his violin and bow back in it’s case, then swiftly replaced his mask. His demeanor changed the instant it covered his face. “I haven’t played since…”

 

He broke off, and Raoul knew that he hadn’t played since before the fire, and that he had only played for Christine.

 

“How is she?” Erik asked suddenly.

 

“What?”

 

“Christine,” Erik said softly. “How is she?”

 

Raoul gave him a confused look.

 

Erik averted his eyes. “All those years I had her convinced I was her Angel of Music, and then when I finally revealed myself to her, I manipulated her and tried to use her against you…. I fear I may have damaged her soul irreparably.” 

 

“We do not speak of it,” Raoul said. “If she is bothered by the past, she does not show it.”

 

Erik nodded, but did not meet his eyes. 

 

Raoul picked his way slowly through the rubble to stand at his side. “Erik... I’m not here to talk about Christine.”

 

Erik’s yellow eyes flashed and narrowed as he took a step back from Raoul. “Then why  _ are  _ you here?” he asked harshly. “Am I like a sideshow freak that you can come and gawk at for your own entertainment?”

 

Raoul did not flinch from him. He reached out and lightly placed his hand on Erik’s arm. “You know that’s not true.” 

 

He gently pulled Erik towards the bed and sat, then gestured for Erik to sit next to him. “Tell me what inspired you to play what you did just now. You said you hadn’t played since before the fire.”

 

Erik looked down at him for a moment, then sat and interlaced his long bony fingers. “Inspiration can come from any number of things,” he said matter-of-factly. “A sunrise, a sunset, a rainstorm…. an intense emotion, a voice, a face, a name-” he stopped abruptly, twisting his fingers nervously.

 

Raoul couldn’t help but smile. “Erik… are you flirting with me?”

 

Erik raised his head and narrowed his eyes.

 

Raoul’s smile widened. “If you desire my company more frequently, you have but to ask.”

 

Erik smirked. “This may be the first time in my life anyone has dared to tease me.”

 

Raoul raised his hand and placed it on the cold skin of Erik’s neck, caressing him lightly. “I  _ have  _ teased you before, Erik.”

 

Erik’s breath caught and he did not speak when Raoul slowly removed his mask. 

 

“You do not need to wear it when I am with you,” he whispered.

 

Erik raised his arm and placed his cold hand over Raoul’s at his cheek. Raoul leaned into him, and replaced his hand with his lips. Erik’s body tensed and he shuddered with pleasure as Raoul nipped and teased his skin with his tongue. 

 

“You want to know why I am here?” he whispered, nibbling on Erik’s’ earlobe.

 

Erik gasped and moaned.

 

Raoul took Erik’s hand and pressed it to the bulge between his legs. “Because…. I need you, too,” he whispered breathlessly. 

 

Erik stood suddenly and walked several paces away from him. “Raoul… I need you to leave. Now,” he said in a husky voice, his back to him. 

 

Raoul rose from the bed and started walking towards him.

 

Erik heard his footsteps and retreated further into the shadows of the cavern. “Leave me!” he thundered, his harsh voice echoing loudly.

 

Raoul held out a placating hand. “All right, I will,” he said softly. “But at least tell me why you wish me to leave.”

 

There were several moments of silence, then Raoul jumped when he heard Erik’s voice just over his shoulder.

 

“I fool myself every time I see you…”

 

Raoul turned to face him.

 

“You give me hope that my life could be different-”

 

“Erik-”

 

Erik gritted his teeth, his hands clenched in fists. “We cannot continue this, it is too dangerous for us both.”

 

Raoul reached out and grabbed Erik’s shirt before he could move away. “Yes, it is dangerous. Yes, we risk a lot. But all I care about right now is how much I need you.”

 

Erik stood looking down at him, his yellow cat eyes boring into Raoul’s. The horrible disfigurement of Erik’s face made it impossible for Raoul to guess what he was thinking. Finally, Erik stepped forward and bent slightly, pressing his cold lips lightly against Raoul’s. Raoul opened his mouth, silently begging Erik to deepen the kiss. Erik tentatively flicked his tongue against Raoul’s, then fully entered his mouth when Raoul moaned and pulled him closer. Erik’s hands wandered to Raoul’s belt.

 

Raoul smiled and broke the kiss slightly. “Eager, are you?”

 

Erik growled with irritation. “You should know by now that I take what I want, when I want it.”

 

Raoul kissed him deeply, then pulled back. “But you do not need to take by force what is freely offered, Erik.” 

 

Erik pulled Raoul towards the bed and tugged at his clothes. “Take these off,” he demanded, swiftly removing his own clothes. 

 

Erik sat with his back against the headboard and rubbed himself vigorously as Raoul finished removing his clothes and crawled across the bed towards him. Erik pulled at his shoulder.

 

“Turn around and sit back on me….. slowly,” he purred into Raoul’s ear.

 

Raoul turned and felt Erik’s strong arms pull him slowly backwards. He shuddered and groaned as he felt Erik enter him, slowly burying himself up to the hilt. Erik rested his cold forehead against Raoul’s shoulder, breathing heavily. Raoul raised his head and closed his eyes, holding tightly to Erik’s arms as they encircled his chest.

 

“This is…. new,” he gasped out, slowly letting the tension drain out of him.

 

Erik laughed softly and bit at his neck. “I thought you might like it,” he whispered. He felt for Raoul’s silky desire and massaged him gently.

 

“Erik- I won’t last long if you do that…” Raoul gasped breathlessly.  

 

He dug his fingers into Erik’s arms as Erik rocked against him. Hot stickiness burst from him as Erik continued to stroke him, moving in a slow rhythm with his thrusts. Erik held Raoul tightly to him and nipped at his neck and shoulder as Raoul’s cries of pleasure filled the cavern. Erik held off as long as he could before his body shook in intense release. He loosened his hold on Raoul, his hot breath causing Raoul’s sweat covered back to shiver. Raoul fell forward into the bed and lay there with his eyes closed, his heavy breathing slowly subsiding. Erik stretched out next to him and raised himself on an elbow, lightly running his fingers down Raoul’s spine. 

 

Raoul opened his eyes and stared at Erik for several moments.

 

“What are we going to do?” he asked softly. “I cannot stay away from you….”

 

Erik ran the back of his hand over Raoul’s flawless cheek. “I do not know.”

 

He sat up and began to retrieve his clothing. “Come. I’ll see you to the stairs.”

  
  
  
  


*****

  
  


Three months after Philipe’s birth, Christine begged Raoul to return to her bed. She removed her clothes quickly and lay before him. Her body still bore the marks of childbirth, and while she did not disgust him, he did not desire her.

 

“Christine, it has been a very long day. We both need rest,” Raoul tried to beg her off.

 

Christine frowned up at him. “Please Raoul. I need this, I need  _ you.” _

 

Raoul smiled when he remembered Erik saying those exact words….

 

Christine took his smile to mean that he wanted her. She pulled at him until he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He slowly removed his clothes and stroked himself roughly, begging his body to respond. He felt Christine’s hand on his shoulder. He gave her a weak smile as he turned, then moved to place himself between her legs. 

 

She gently pushed him away, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “No, Raoul, it is my turn.”

 

Raoul tried not to let his frustration show as he fell on his back. His body still had not responded, and he was terrified that he would be unable to please her. 

 

Christine straddled him and began to play with his limp member. “I never appreciated how good you feel until I had to go without you,” she said, blushing. “It has been much too long since we have enjoyed each other.”

 

Raoul thought of Erik’s hands caressing him, then smiled up at Christine as he finally felt himself harden. “Yes it has.”

 

Christine rode him enthusiastically, her sharp gasps and moans increasing gradually until she released and collapsed upon him, breathing heavily. Raoul could not help wishing that it was Erik laying there, their sweat mingling, the taste of Erik on his tongue…

 

Christine rolled off of him and lay at his side, then nestled herself under his arm and was soon asleep.

 

Raoul looked at her, cursing himself for wishing she was someone else.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

 

Philipe and Amelie returned from their honeymoon, and moved to a large house near the center of Paris soon after. Philipe always kept Raoul very busy managing the affairs of the De Chagny estate, as well as accompanying him to social functions, fund raisers, and meetings with potential business partners, all the while Raoul having to put on the facade of a happily married family man, content with his position in life. But as time went on, and months passed with him unable to see Erik, he found himself becoming easily irritable and short-tempered, often snapping at servants and others for even the slightest offense.

 

Christine sought to soften his moods by offering her body to him frequently, but she could tell that his heart and mind were not in it.

 

One night after failing to stimulate him, she fell back against the pillows with a frustrated sigh. “Raoul, what is wrong? Your moods have become steadily darker, and you seem dissatisfied with everything around you.”

 

“I cannot tell you what I do not know myself,” Raoul grumbled, fervently wishing that he did not have to lie to her. “Everything just seems so…. superfluous and monotonous. I find little joy in anything anymore.”

 

Christine thought for a moment, then said, “What if we were to take a vacation? To Spain, or to Italy? Or maybe even north to England!”  

 

Raoul couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in her voice. “I am skeptical that anything will brighten my mood, but I promise you I will think on it.”

 

Christine gave him a tired smile and nestled into her favorite spot at his side. Soon her breathing deepened and her body relaxed against him in sleep. Raoul stared at her peaceful face with jealousy- he had not had a restfull nights’ sleep in several weeks.

 

He did not know how long he had lain there when he suddenly noticed a slight movement near the curtains of his balcony doors. His heart leapt and he bolted upright when a tall shadow fell against them.

 

Christine whimpered at the disturbance, but did not wake.

 

Raoul quickly pulled on his trousers and rushed to the balcony doors, flinging them open. He squinted, searching the moonless darkness of his balcony for a sign of what he hoped was there.

 

“Erik?” he whispered, hopefully.

 

A tall shadow detached itself from the wall to his right and stood motionless before him. Hot desire burned through Raoul as he looked into Erik’s sad eyes. He reached out and pulled Erik to him, meeting his lips in a long probing kiss. Erik stiffened slightly, then surrendered to Raoul’s slow exploration of his mouth.

 

Finally breaking the kiss, Raoul closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Erik’s chest, breathing heavily. He wrapped his arms around Erik and crushed himself to him. He inhaled deeply the scent of damp woodsmoke that was uniquely Erik, and found himself nearly sobbing with relief.

 

Raoul’s breath caught in his throat and he shuddered as Erik slowly ran his cold hands up and down his bare back, then lightly ran his thin lips over Raoul’s shoulder.

 

“It has been so long,” Erik whispered against his skin. “I thought that…. you may no longer wish to see me.”

 

Raoul kissed Erik’s neck and held him tighter, afraid that if he let go Erik might vanish into the night.

 

“I rarely have any time to myself anymore. These past months have been agony for me.”

 

Erik continued to nibble at Raoul’s shoulder as he slid a hand down into his trousers, finding Raoul ready and waiting for him.

 

Raoul took hold of his wrist. “We can’t Erik,” he gasped. “Christine is-”

 

“Shshsh….” Erik whispered hotly into his ear as he began to softly stroke him.

 

Raoul bit his tongue to keep from crying out. He buried his face in Erik’s coat, struggling to silence his heavy breathing. He moaned softly, held back as long as he could, and then-

 

“Raoul?”

 

Erik jerked away from him and leapt towards the balustrade.

 

Raoul reached out for him in vain. “Erik, wait-”

 

“I can’t,” Erik whispered. “Do not worry. I will see you soon.” With that he leapt over the ballustrade and ran towards the trees.

 

Raoul’s heart sank as he watched Erik disappear into the surrounding forest.

 

“Raoul… what are you doing out here?”

 

He turned to see Christine walking slowly towards him.

 

“I am sorry, my dear, I could not sleep,” Raoul said wearily. He was grateful that the moonless night hid his reddened face and swollen lips. _If you only knew who it was who has kept me from sleep…_

 

Christine took his hand and held it tightly. “Come back to bed, I am sure you will be able to sleep now.”

 

Raoul squeezed her hand and allowed her to lead him back into their room. _Yes, I will be able to sleep, and quite well, I imagine._

  


****

  
  


A few days later, Raoul and Christine were surprised by a visit from Philipe and Amelie.

 

“I have just heard from our Uncle Alexandre,” Philipe told Raoul.

 

“Uncle Alexandre? We haven’t seen or heard from him since father’s death.”

 

“Yes, so you can imagine how surprised I was,” Phillipe said. “He is interested in expanding his estate near Florence, but is in need of financial assistance. He says it is a worthy investment.”

 

“Do you believe him?” Raoul asked.

 

Philipe gave him a small smile. “He definitely has my curiosity peaked. Amelie and I are making plans to leave for Florence in three days. We would like you and Christine to accompany us.”

 

Christine gave an excited gasp and Raoul tried to hide the discomfort from his face.

 

Christine flushed with embarrassment. “Forgive me, it’s just that Raoul and I have been talking about taking a vacation, but we were not sure if it would be possible.”

 

Amelie walked to Christine and shook her hands with excitement. “Florence is beautiful, Christine. And you will never see anything more beautiful than the Italian countryside.”

 

Raoul smiled and filled his voice with joy that he was miles from feeling. “I haven’t been to Italy since I was a small boy. It will be wonderful to see it again.”

  
  
  


The night before they were to leave, Raoul saddled his horse and raced into Paris as if the devil were at his heels. Desperation and anguish filled him as he made his way down to Erik’s cavern. Soft and heartbreakingly beautiful organ music reached his ears as he rowed across the lake. Erik continued to play as Raoul stepped from the boat and walked to him, placing his hands lightly on Erik’s shoulders. Erik stopped playing and grabbed his quill, dipped it in ink and scribbled several notes on the pages in front of him. When he was finished, he turned to Raoul and held up his ink stained hands.

 

“The hazards of writing music,” he said, and Raoul could hear faint amusement in his voice.

 

“Erik, I am leaving for Florence in the morning,” Raoul burst out. “I don’t know how long I will be there. Phillipe says we must go and I cannot refuse-”

 

“You speak as if you will not be returning.”

 

“It’s not that,” Raoul whispered. He took Erik’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “It’s knowing that I will be so far away from you…”

 

Erik caressed Raoul’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I will still be here when you return,” he said, amusement still in his voice. “I have no urgent demands on my time, nor anywhere that I need to be.”

 

Raoul stepped forward and kissed Erik’s neck, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. “I know, it’s just that a part of me…. an irrational fear I have is that one day you will not be here, and that I will never see you again.”

 

Erik’s chest rose and fell several times in rapid succession.

 

Raoul panicked at first, then said, “Erik…. are you _laughing_ at me?”

 

Erik ran his hands through Raoul’s hair and nibbled at his ear. “As I said, I have no demands on my time, nor anywhere that I need to be.”

 

They stood still for several minutes, basking in the warmth and familiarity of each other’s bodies.

 

“I cannot stay,” Raoul said finally. “We are leaving at first light.”

 

Erik drew back from him slightly, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

 

Raoul gasped as hot desire flowed through him. He gave a frustrated groan. “Must our time together always be so fleeting?”

 

“I am afraid it must.”

 

Erik walked with Raoul to the small boat, then stood on the shore and watched as he slowly rowed away.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Raoul enjoyed Florence immensely, and spent most of his time touring the city and countryside with Christine. She took in the beautiful scenery with childlike wonder, constantly asking quiestions about the vegetation and wildlife. Raoul thought that she might be perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life there.

 

However, as weeks passed with no indication of a return to Paris, Raoul found himself becoming restless and impatient all over again. He lay awake most nights, reliving the moments of ecstasy spent in Erik’s arms, and inevitably would end up having to discreetly pleasure himself in order to get rid of the painful hardening of his groin.

 

Late one night as he struggled to silently pleasure himself, he felt Christine’s hands on his back, and as he opened his eyes her arm reached around him and she replaced his hand with her own.

 

“Let me help you,” she whispered in his ear.

 

“Christine, I’m sorry, I-”

 

She pushed Raoul onto his back and used both of her hands to massage and stroke him.

 

“I’ve never felt you this big before,” Christine said shyly.

 

On a sudden impulse, Raoul forcefully flipped Christine onto her stomach and pulled her up on her hands and knees. He entered her roughly, his quick thrusts filling her completely and making her gasp with pleasure. Raoul latched on to Christine’s hips as he moved within her, wanting, _needing_ her to be Erik. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, imagining the firm curve of Erik’s buttocks, the scarred and sinewy muscles of his back, his strong but gentle arms and hands being the source of both pleasure and pain.

 

“Erik…. Erik…” Raoul moaned involuntarily. His eyes shot open in panic, but it lasted only a moment, for Christine was lost in her own world of pleasure and did not hear him.

 

Raoul cried out as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over him, and he collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily. Christine fell next to him, her own breath coming in short bursts. She laughed softly.

 

“We should do that more often, Raoul.”

 

Raoul frowned, and was amazed at the level of disappointment he felt at hearing her voice. He was immensely grateful for the darkness masking his face. He reached out and pulled Christine to his side, gently kissing her forehead.

 

“Rest now.”

 

Christine gave a contented sigh and curled into him, and was soon breathing deeply in sleep.

 

Raoul resolved that he would leave for Paris in two days, whether Philipe granted it or not.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Raoul’s delight and satisfaction, he did not have to press Philipe for permission to return to Paris.

 

“We cannot neglect our affairs in France any longer,” Philipe said, regret in his voice. “I’m afraid that you and Christine will have to return soon.”

 

Raoul tried to hide his excitement. “I will do what I must.”

 

“Amelie and I will most likely stay for a few months more,” Philipe said. “I will write to tell you when to expect us back.”

 

Raoul nodded, then rushed away to find Christine.

  
  
  
  


The return trip to Paris seemed to pass agonizingly slow for Raoul, and so when they finally reached the grounds of the De Chagny estate, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. 

 

Christine squeezed his hand. “It has been far too long. I am happy to be home.”

 

Raoul smiled at her, but for a different reason entirely.

  
  
  
  


Later that night, though he was exhausted beyond words, Raoul saddled his horse and spurred it the entire way to the old Opera House. He realized that he hadn’t felt this incredible sense of urgency since the first time he had visited Erik’s lair.

 

The cavern was dark and silent when Raoul stepped from the boat, and for one terrible moment he thought that Erik might not be there. But as he squinted in the faint light of his small candle he could just make out Erik’s still form lying on the swan bed. Raoul quietly made his way to the bedside and stood there looking down at Erik with longing. Erik lay on his back, a strange sort of peace filling his hideous face as he breathed deeply in sleep. Raoul removed his boots and slowly slid into the empty space beside him.

 

Raoul desperately wanted to wake Erik, but could not bring himself to do so. Instead, he lightly ran his hand over the uneven stubble of hair on Erik’s scalp, then traced the blue lines of the veins running down his face. He finally brought his hand to rest on Erik’s chest, right over his heart, and could feel it’s strong beat under his palm. 

 

Raoul was so lost in thought that he jumped when Erik’s hand covered his. He looked to see Erik regarding him with tired eyes. 

 

“Returned at last, have you?”

 

Hot desire burned through Raoul, and he realized that the sound of Erik’s voice would never fail to make him feel that way.

 

“I am sorry I woke you.”

 

“You didn’t,” Erik said, closing his eyes again. “That horrid scent you always wear turns my stomach. It is impossible to sleep when my senses are so offended.”

 

Raoul pulled his hand away, irritated. “You might have mentioned that earlier, Erik-”

 

Erik reached out and pulled Raoul on top of him, kissing him with a passion Raoul thought he could only express in music. After a long, probing exploration of Raoul’s mouth, Erik broke the kiss and held Raoul above him, looking deeply into his eyes. 

 

“It is that same horrid scent that brought me to a bed where I do not usually sleep in search of something,  _ anything _ , that would allow me to experience even the tiniest hint of you,” he said softly, his eyes burning with lust. “It is that same scent that keeps me awake on cold nights, fills me with desire I can barely contain, and makes me harder than I have ever been.”

 

Erik gently pushed Raoul onto his back, then pulled eagerly at his trousers. As soon as he had freed Raoul from them he slowly ran his thin, cold lips along his length, caressing and stroking him gently.

 

Erik took his time touching, tasting, and feeling, basking in the heat coming off Raoul’s body. Just as Raoul was about to release, Erik pulled him up kissed him roughly. 

 

“I want you,” he growled. “I want you  _ now.” _

 

There was a harsh sound of ripping fabric as Erik tore at his clothing, then he turned and positioned himself before Raoul. 

 

Needing no encouragement, Raoul pushed himself inside of Erik and then instantly released as he felt Erik’s muscles clench around him. He gasped with pleasure and collapsed upon Erik’s back. 

 

Erik dropped a shoulder and Raoul tumbled down onto the bed. Erik glared at him in annoyance.

 

“Already?”

 

Raoul grinned at him sheepishly.

 

Erik fiddled with the buttons on Raoul’s jacket and shirt, kissing a trail down his neck and chest.

 

“I’m just getting started,” he whispered against Raoul’s skin.

 

Erik gently pushed Raoul over onto his chest then slowly entered him, wanting to last as long as possible. He bent over Raoul and reached around to massage him, then smiled as Raoul moaned, “Oh…. Erik…. you do like to tease me, don’t you?”

 

“I just laundered these sheets,” Erik said in a husky voice as he began to thrust against Raoul. “I do not want to have to clean up your mess.”

 

“I…” Raoul gasped and groaned, “I don’t think that…. can be avoided….”

 

Erik thrust against him slowly until Raoul begged him, “Harder…. harder, please….”

 

Erik obliged him eagerly, pounding into him again and again until he shuddered his release and fell to the bed, gasping and wiping sweat from his forehead.

 

Raoul straddled him, kissing away the beads of sweat that had formed on Erik’s neck and chest. 

 

“Forgive me for offending your delicate senses, Erik.”

 

Erik moaned with pleasure as Raoul continued to taste him. 

 

“One day…. I may, ah…. find it within me…. to forgive you,” Erik gasped as Raoul nipped at his navel.

 

Raoul moved to Erik’s inner thigh, and Erik shivered as he bit at his tender flesh.

 

“And what do your senses tell you now?”

 

“That…. I cannot say,” Erik gasped breathlessly. “There are no words….”

 

Raoul sat up and slowly pushed Erik’s legs up so his knees were touching his chest, then gently slid between them. 

 

“I hope, then, that after I am finished, your senses will have been mollified,” Raoul said, grinning mischievously. 

 

Raoul slid into him quickly and without warning, causing Erik to cry out and arch his back, his seed spurting out of him and onto his stomach. Raoul buried his face in Erik’s shoulder, grabbing fistfulls of the sheets as he vigorously thrust against him. Erik’s arms surrounded Raoul and he dug his fingers into Raoul’s back, his body writhing in ecstacy with each movement. Erik felt Raoul’s heat fill him as he climaxed, and he pushed against Erik a few more times before he let his full weight fall upon him. Erik made no sound of discomfort, and ran his fingers lightly up and down Raoul’s back as his breathing slowed. 

 

“I need to go,” Raoul said, but made no effort to move.

 

Erik ran his fingers through Raoul’s hair. “I will let you leave on one condition.”

 

Raoul raised his head slightly and gave Erik a questioning look. 

 

Erik’s fingers continued to roam around Raoul’s face and neck. “And the condition is that you will return to me soon, and often.”

 

“Erik, you do not need to ask that,” Raoul said. He pushed himself up on his hands and looked deeply into Erik’s yellow eyes, still hot with desire.  

 

“Then I will see you tomorrow?”

 

Raoul smiled at the eagerness in Erik’s voice, then kissed him slowly. “Yes. And I will see about getting you some fresh sheets.”

 

Erik threw a pillow at him as he looked for his clothes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Raoul’s desire for Erik became all-consuming. For three months he was able to slip away unnoticed to Erik’s lair, sometimes daring to go five nights in a week. 

 

Then early one morning Raoul returned to find faint candlelight coming from a gap in the door of his and Christine’s bedroom. His heart lurched in a way that only the guilty can feel as he pushed the door open and slowly entered the room.

 

Christine was sitting in a chair near a small table, tears streaming down her face. She glared at Raoul as he approached her. 

 

“I know where you’ve been, Raoul,” she said accusingly.

 

Raoul tried not to let his panic show.

 

Christine stood and moved to the window, gazing out at the first rays of sunlight to the east. “I’ve been told that husbands will often seek mistresses, but I did not think that it would be so soon.” She turned back and walked to him, then slapped him several times across his cheek. Raoul did not resist her attack, nor did he move to retaliate.

 

Christine’s eyes again filled with tears. “Do I know her?”

 

Raoul did not meet her eyes, fearing that she would see his immense relief in his own.

 

“My god, would you even tell me if I did?”

 

Raoul bit his lip.

 

When he still did not respond, Christine slapped him again then retreated to her chair. Her body shook with sobs.

 

Raoul walked to her and knelt by her side. “Christine, I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It will not happen again.”

 

Christine raised her head, and Raoul saw complete anguish in her eyes. “How can I even trust that it won’t? I have lost all faith in you!”

 

Raoul tried to take her hand and she pulled it away. “I will not have you touch me with hands that have handled a whore! Get away from me!”

 

Raoul stood and retreated. “Christine, I  _ am _ sorry. I will spend the rest of my life earning your trust back, if you will let me.”

 

Christine shook her head. “I’m going to have a baby.”

 

Raoul’s mouth dropped open and dread filled him. He tried to smile with happiness he did not feel. “Oh, Christine, that’s wonderful!” 

 

Christine glared at him again. “How can I love this child if I cannot bare to even look at it’s father?” She buried her face in her hands. “Please leave, Raoul.”

 

Raoul said nothing as he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  
  
  


The next day, and every day thereafter, Christine refused to let Raoul out of her sight. She would lounge on a chaise in his study while he worked, attend his private dinners, and even travel with him on business. She never spoke to him, and when he tried to talk with her he was greeted with stony silence. He dared not complain, and he did not blame her for her actions.

Raoul received notes from Erik nearly every day, but he did not attempt a reply as he had not one moment of privacy.  

 

Raoul’s one comfort was that the day Philipe and Amelie were to return from Italy was fast approaching. When at last the day came, he waited outside the house, keeping a watchful eye on the road leading to the estate. He started to worry as the sun began to set, then spent a sleepless night pacing in the parlor near the front door. As the next day dawned, Raoul again spent the day outside, pacing nervously. On the morning of the third day, he sent out his best rider with the task of finding where Philipe and Amelie were. 

 

At the end of two weeks and in the early morning, Raoul was told by a servant that his rider was swiftly approaching the estate. Raoul hurried to dress and ran down the stairs in his bare feet. Just as he exited the front door, the rider jumped from his horse and handed Raoul a letter. Raoul recognized the handwriting as his Uncle’s. Raoul tore open the letter and began to read.

 

_ My dear Nephew, _

 

_ I regret to inform you of the deaths of your brother and his wife. They were sailing to the island of Portoferraio when their ship was caught in a storm. After the storm passed a ship was sent out, but found no record of them reaching the island. Wreckage washed up on the beaches of Piombino, but there has been no trace of the ship's crew or your brother. Please accept my deepest condolences. _

 

_ Alexandre De Chagny _

 

Raoul crumpled the letter in his fist and let it fall to the ground. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there when he heard Christine’s voice over his shoulder. “What is it, Raoul? Is there news of Philipe and Amelie?”

 

Raoul turned to face her, his eyes blurry and unfocused. “Yes… they…” All at once the pain of Philipe’s loss crashed down upon him and he fell to his knees, crying out in anguish. “The ship sank, Christine… they are dead…”

 

Christine put a soft hand on his shoulder, unable to speak any words of comfort. Several minutes passed before Raoul rose and slowly walked back into the house. 

 

Raoul took Christine’s hands in his own and lightly squeezed them. “I need some time alone, Christine,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please.”

 

Christine nodded her assent and Raoul ascended the stairs in a daze. He made his way to his study and collapsed onto a couch. He curled up on his side and sobbed uncontrollably. Soon he became aware of an urgent tapping noise at the balcony door. He looked up to see Erik standing there, the bright sun making his mask shine brilliantly. He rose and swiftly approached the door, yanking it open.

 

“Erik, it is broad daylight! You cannot be here!”

 

“When I did not hear from you I began to worry.” 

 

Erik’s intoxicating voice did little to calm the storm raging inside of Raoul. 

 

“I have been watching the estate for days in hope of finding you alone,” Erik said. “Then I saw the rider-”

“I have just found out that my brother and his wife are dead!” Raoul exclaimed. “And because of you Christine will not so much as look at me! My life is in ruins, Erik!”

 

Erik stiffened and his yellow eyes flashed with anger. “ _ Your  _ life is in ruins?” He clenched his fists tightly. 

 

“No, Erik, I didn’t mean that-”

 

“I gave you my soul…,” he said through gritted teeth. “I thought you would heal me…”

 

Erik turned from him and walked to the balustrade. “You will not see me again.” He gave Raoul one last pained look before he leapt off the balcony and disappeared.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

  
  


“Erik, wait!” Raoul raced to the balcony frantically, then turned when he heard his study door open.

 

Christine entered, a look of concern on her face. “Were you talking to someone?”

 

He gave her a cold look. “My brother and his wife are dead, Christine. I cannot just imagine to myself that it did not happen.” He risked a glance over his shoulder.

 

_And Erik…. have I lost him forever?_

 

Christine walked to him and hesitantly put her arms around his waist. “I am sorry, Raoul. Is there anything I can do?”

 

Raoul held her tightly, tears running unashamedly down his face. “Just hold me.”

 

 

 

Raoul spent the next week lying sleepless in Christine’s arms, unable to forget the look of pain and sadness in Erik’s eyes.

 

**_You will not see me again_ **

 

Raoul’s pain at the loss of Philippe and Amelie was nothing in comparison to the pain he felt at the loss of Erik. His body ached for Erik’s touch.

 

**_I gave you my soul… I thought you would heal me…_ **

 

Erik’s words burned through him. Raoul refused to believe that he would never see him again. He slowly slid from Christine’s side and rushed to the stables.

 

* * *

 

 

When Raoul stepped from the boat, his eyebrows rose in amazement. Where before Erik’s cavern had been a ransacked mess, at this moment it was spotless, as if he had been expecting a guest. The glossy shine of the organ’s smooth surface reflected brightly in the candlelight. He walked to the swan bed and found the curtains pulled back and the sheets turned down. A wilted rose lay on one of the pillows. Nearby was a small table with two place settings of the finest porcelain china he had ever seen.

 

Raoul’s eyes filled with tears. _Oh, Erik… I am sorry… so very sorry…_

 

Raoul’s fist clenched above his heart as wave after wave of regret and pain washed over him. He turned and stumbled back to the boat, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day a funeral was held. The de Chagny estate was draped in black, and a steady stream of somber guests arrived with words of comfort and apology. With Christine at his side,Raoul stood next to the empty coffins in a daze. He knew he should feel unbearable sorrow at the loss of his brother and Amelie, but he could think only of Erik:

 

_His hands, his body, once a source of abuse and rage, turned into gentle caresses and slow movements…. his once blazing eyes turned soft as he looked deeply into Raoul’s..._

 

_And his voice… that beautiful, haunting voice…_

 

**_Your body betrays you… you disgust me... I need you… just let me enjoy you… this is what you do to me…_ **

 

Raoul fell against the coffins, then to the hard ground as blackness overcame him.

 

  
  


Within the next two weeks, Christine returned to her previous action of insisting on being with Raoul at all times, though rarely speaking to him. As her stomach expanded she had difficulty, and so Raoul obliged her by confining himself to his study for most of the day. As the day of the baby’s birth drew nearer, he grew concerned as her body became thinner and her face paler.

One morning as he was helping her dress, he looked at her in grave concern. “Christine, we cannot continue in this way. Will you never forgive me?”

 

She would not look at him. “I do not know.”

 

  


Two days later Christine began feeling labour pains, and when the doctor arrived he insisted on locking the door of Christine’s room, saying that he did not want Raoul distracting him.

 

Raoul paced the floor, occasionally hearing Christine cry out in pain. Hours passed. Raoul continued to pace. Several times he knocked on the door, begging to enter.

 

“It is not time yet, Monsieur,” the midwife said through the door. She sounded irritated. “Do not worry.”

 

More hours passed, and Christine’s cries became less and less frequent.

 

Finally Raoul heard the shrill cry of an infant, and waited impatiently for the door to open. When it did not, he knocked firmly. “Doctor?”

 

Several minutes passed, and Raoul heard nothing except the loud cries of the baby. He pounded the door with his fist. “Open this door! Now!”

 

When he again heard nothing, he flung himself against the door over and over, punching and kicking at it until finally the lock gave way and he stumbled into the room.

 

The midwife rushed to him, placing the wailing infant into his arms. Her arms were covered in blood up to her elbows.”You have a beautiful baby girl, Monsieur,” she said hurriedly, then rushed back to where the doctor was standing. His arms and chest were dripping with Christine’s blood.

 

Raoul held his daughter tightly to his chest. “What is happening? What is wrong?”

 

“We cannot stop her bleeding, Monsieur,” the doctor said.

 

Raoul walked to Christine and put a hand to her cheek. She opened her pain filled eyes and smiled weakly. “Let me hold her.”

Raoul gently placed the howling infant in Christine’s arms. “She is beautiful,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, and her body tensed with pain. She reached out and squeezed Raoul’s hand. “Take care of them, Raoul,” she whispered. “Take care of them.” She took one last shuddering breath and was still.

 

Raoul fell to his knees. “Christine!” He shook her gently. “Christine! No, god please, no!” He fell against her, screaming her name over and over. Soon he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

 

“I am very sorry, Monsieur,” the doctor said. “But she is gone.”

 

Raoul clenched his fists and cried out, cursing the heavens for his loss.

 

* * *

 

 

Raoul spent the next week in his room, in a constant state of drunken stupor. As the second week began, and, seeing no hint of change in his Master’s behaviour, Durand entered Raoul’s bedroom without knocking and stood at the foot of his bed.

 

Raoul shifted among the twisted blankets squinted at him. “What do you want?” he slurred.

 

Durand took the pitcher of water from the bedside table and in one swift motion poured it over Raoul’s head.

 

Raoul howled and leapt from the bed, cursing. “How dare you-”

 

“How dare _you_ , Monsieur le Compte!” Durand nearly shouted. “I have served your family for over thirty years and have never seen behaviour like this! You are so caught up in your pain that you are failing as a father to your own infant children! The management of your affairs cannot be left to me or anyone else! You have responsibilities, and you cannot ignore them any longer!”

 

Raoul looked at him in amazement. Durand, a man who had always been calm and collected, a loyal and willing servant, now stood before him with a red face and angry expression.

 

Raoul gave him a harsh glare. “I have lost four people who are very dear to me in as many months, Durand. You know nothing of my pain.”

 

For a moment Raoul panicked as he realized he had included Erik, but Durand’s angry expression did not change.

 

“Do you expect it to just vanish away when you do nothing but stay in this room?”

 

Raoul glared at him for several moments, then ran a hand through his sopping wet hair. “Then I shall dress and take a ride on my horse.”

Durand frowned. “With all due respect Compte, you smell like the pigs. I shall draw a bath for you, and then I believe your children are very much in need of your attention.”

 

Raoul could not help but smile as he remembered times in his youth when Durand had insisted that he do certain things, always preceding them by saying “With all due respect”.

 

“Very well, Durand, I will do as you say,” Raoul said. He pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead. “And I believe I will need several cups of very strong tea.”

 

 

  


Raoul found his bath to be invigorating, and his fresh set of clothes refreshing. He looked at the dark bags under his eyes as he shaved, and marveled at how much he had deteriorated. He wondered if he would ever feel whole again.

 

Raoul felt nervous as he entered the nursery. The nursemaid smiled at him tiredly as he approached the chair where she was sitting with his daughter in her arms. He held out his hands, and the nursemaid gently placed the baby in them.

 

 _She looks exactly like Christine._ The thought brought tears to his eyes. “Christine,” he whispered. “That is your name. Christine.”

 

The nursemaid gestured to a nearby crib. “Your son is napping, but should be awake within the hour.”

 

“Then I will stay,” Raoul said. “I should like to hold him, too.”

  
  
  


Raoul found great joy in his children, spending as much time as he could with them, even assisting the maid with their bathing and changing. He began asking his servants how they had raised their own children, and although they found his behaviour to be very strange, they often smiled at his efforts.

 

Raoul did everything in his power to not think of Erik, and often succeeded, but on cold nights when he could not sleep the memories would creep in, and his body would burn with desire. He returned to Erik’s lair many times, but found nothing save an increasing layer of dust. A year passed, and as his desire for Erik decreased, his visits to Erik’s lair became less and less frequent. Near the end of the second year, he gave up hope of ever seeing Erik again, and his visits to Erik’s lair ceased.

 

* * *

 

 

Raoul leaned against the balustrade of his balcony, his eyes taking in the beauty of the estate grounds lit by the bright moonlight. He was tired to the point of exhaustion, but was denied a peaceful sleep due to the painful throbbing in his groin. He shook his head. _There are only so many times that I can take care of this by my own hand._ He slowly dressed and walked awkwardly to the stables.

 

Raoul had just finished saddling his horse when he heard a slight creaking of wood, then Durand walked into the light of his lantern.

“You nearly scared me to death!” Raoul rebuked him.

 

Durand just stared at him.

 

“Speak your mind, Durand, and have done with it.”

 

“I had thought you were finished with your late night comings and goings,” Durand said.

 

“I do not have to answer to you,” Raoul growled. He hesitated, then asked, “How long have you known?”

 

Durand looked slightly guilty. “From the very beginning. The stable boy came to me, concerned for your safety. I have been following you ever since.”

 

Raoul scowled at him. “You had no right. What I do during this time is not your business.”

 

“With all due respect, Monsieur le Compte, it _is_ my business,” Durand said. “I could not forgive myself if something were to happen to you. I was charged by your father with yours and Philipe’s well being, and my failure to keep Philipe out of harm's way has haunted me since his death.”

 

“You could not help that, Durand,” Raoul said.

 

“Still, it is my charge,” Durand said firmly.

 

Raoul continued to scowl at him, trying to keep himself from blushing.  “I suppose you must be wondering why I spend so much time at the Opera House.”

 

“That is not for me to judge,” Durand said.

 

Raoul averted his eyes. “My tastes are less than conventional, Durand.” His hands tightened on the stirrups of the saddle. “There is a house near the Thames not far from the city-”

 

“Monsieur le Compte, surely there is someone here who can satisfy you,” Durand said. “A scullery maid perhaps-”

 

Raoul shook his head, a bitter smile on his face. “No, Durand.” He raised his head and met Durand’s concerned eyes. “A woman cannot satisfy the desires I have.”

 

To Raoul’s complete surprise, Durand’s face did not register shock or disgust, but softened into a look of compassion. “Is that all?”

 

Raoul’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, that is all.”

 

Durand placed his hand over Raoul’s on the saddle’s stirrup. “You need not travel so far to satisfy yourself, le Compte.”

 

Raoul’s eyes widened as he looked at his aging butler. “But your wife and children, your grandchildren-”

 

“I am merely in your same situation, Le Compte” Durand said, shrugging. “I love my wife, but long before I met her I knew that a woman could never truly satisfy me.”

 

Raoul looked away in discomfort, but did not move his hand from where Durand held it.

 

“Nothing will change beyond what already is, le Compte,” Durand said softly. “You are my Master, and I your obedient servant.” He rubbed his thumb gently across the top of Raoul’s hand. “There is a hidden room near the gardening shed. I have used it before.”

 

Raoul’s face again registered surprise, but he allowed Durand to lead him to the room. Durand was not Erik, but he would do, for now.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit chapter. Be mindful of the tags.
> 
> ~PJ

  
  
  


**Ten Years Later**

  


Raoul squinted against the bright sun as he watched Durand escort a short and portly man across the grass to where he was standing. As they neared him, Raoul recognized the man as the head of the Paris building committee.

 

“Monsieur Mathis Reynaud, Le Compte,” Durand said. He bowed and departed.

 

“An honor, Compte de Chagny,” Renaud said, holding out his hand.

 

Raoul gave him a small smile as he shook the proffered hand. “We have met before, Monsieur Reynaud. There is no need for formalities.”

 

Reynaud smiled weakly, then cleared his throat. “The purpose of my visit, Le Compte, is that the committee and I have agreed it is time for the Opera House to be rebuilt.”

 

Raoul’s stomach lurched and his eyes widened in complete surprise. Reynaud was looking down at his shuffling feet and did not notice.

 

“We have three men who have drawn up plans, and have several contributors, but we are still in need of a substantial amount,” Reynaud said quickly.

 

The thought of the Opera House brought back a flood of memories, and Raoul’s heart began to ache as he re-lived them.

 

_Christine, beautiful but naive, and her ghost of a teacher…. Erik…._

 

Raoul blinked back tears that suddenly appeared in his eyes. _Erik…. it has been so long…_

 

 _“_ Le Compte?”

 

“I am sorry,  Reynaud,” Raoul said, recovering quickly. “You were saying?”

 

“The building will be nearly twice as large as the previous one,” Reynaud said, his voice rising in excitement. “Ground has already been broken and the architects are anxious to begin. All we need now is a steady flow of financial assistance.”

 

Raoul’s mind had again wandered, lost in the memory of the blazing inferno of the Opera House, his and Christine’s rapid flight from Erik’s lair…

 

Raoul shook his head to clear it, and noticed Renaud looking at him expectantly.

 

Just then a tall youth with a striking resemblance to Raoul approached them, carrying a cricket bat over his shoulder. “Father, Christine is becoming anxious. You know how quickly her mind wanders.”

 

Raoul smiled and said, “Philipe, this is my friend, Mathis Reynaud.”

 

Philipe shook Reynaud’s hand firmly. “I am very pleased to meet you, Monsieur.”

 

Raoul smiled at Reynaud as he put his arm around his son’s shoulders. “I should like to see the building plans before I commit to anything, Mathis. Will you come see me tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, of course, Le Compte,” Reynaud said quickly. He vigourously shook Raoul’s hand, then turned and hurried back to his carriage.

 

Raoul followed Philipe back across the lawn to where Christine was impatiently standing, his mind swirling.

  
  


****

  


Raoul was sitting at his desk in his study when there was a light tap on his door. Durand entered, escorting a sweaty Renaud, looking even more nervous than he had the previous day.

 

“Monsieur Mathis Renaud, Le Compte,” Durand said, then departed silently.

 

Raoul stood and beckoned Renaud to approach his desk. “Thank you for coming, Mathis.”

 

Reynaud nodded nervously and handed Raoul a folder sodden with his sweat covered hands. “The building plans, Monsieur Le Compte.”

 

“Raoul, please,” Raoul said firmly. “You’ve never known me to push the recitation of my title on anyone, have you?”

 

Reyaud gave him a slightly relieved smile. “No, Le Com- Raoul.”

 

Raoul gestured for Renaud to sit and sat himself as he opened the folder. As he examined the building proposal and the architectual plans, his stomach twisted when he recognized Erik’s handwriting. He held up the architectual plans.

 

“I’m afraid that this is all above my understanding,” he said, self-depricatingly. He set them aside and picked up the building proposal. “And this seems a bit extravigant.”

 

Renaud twisted his hands. “Yes, I thought so too, but I am assured by the architects that every expense is necessary.”

 

Raoul shuffled the papers, desperately trying to keep his hands from shaking. _Erik…. will I finally be able to see you again?_

 

Reynaud nervous voice brought him back to the present. “Le Compte, I hope you will believe me when I say that every franc you give us will be repaid a hundredfold.”

 

Raoul put the papers back in the folder and handed it to Reynaud. “Mathis, tell your architects that they may start building immediately. If you would send me a bill at the end of every week, I shall gladly make the payments.”

 

Reynaud’s fat chin dropped in shock. “But Le Compte-”

 

“Raoul,” he interrupted firmly.

 

“Raoul, do you not wish to first see the site? Meet with the architects?”

 

Raoul smiled at him. “I trust your judgement. You may tell the architects I will visit them within the week.”

 

Reynaud lept to his feet and crushed Raoul’s hand in a vise-like grip. “Thank you so much, Raoul! You will not regret this!”

 

Before Raoul had a chance to bid the man farewell, Reynaud had grabbed the folder and hurried from the room.

 

Raoul turned in his chair to gaze out his balcony windows, his thoughts inevitably drawn back to the one thing he desired most at that moment. _Erik…._

  


****

  


Raoul stepped tentatively from his carriage, worried that he might slip in the mud surrounding the building site. It had rained for nearly two days, but despite this the shouts of workers and the sound of hammers and creaking timber filled the air. Raoul helped Philipe and Christine from the carriage and they gazed curiously at the organized chaos in front of them.

 

“What are they doing, Father?” Christine asked.

 

“They are building a new Opera House,” Raoul explained. “It will be a place where people can come to hear beautiful music and see amazing performances. Your mother sang and performed in the old one.”

 

“What happened to the old one?” Philipe asked.

 

“It burned down.”

 

“Who burned it?” Christine asked.

 

Raoul paused for a moment, then said, “It was more of an accident, really. A man who was misunderstood and always judged very harshly became angry and a fire was started.”

 

Christine looked up at him with wide eyes. “Do people burn down buildings when they are angry?”

 

Raoul chuckled. “Not usually. He was my friend, and he showed me that outside appearances do not always determine a man’s character.”

 

“Comte de Chagny, you have finally come to see us!”

 

Raoul looked up from his daughter to see Reynaud walking towards him. He was covered head to toe in mud.

 

“Forgive my appearance, I’ve just come from the foundation on the east side,” Reynaud said.

 

“I can see that the work is progressing well,” Raoul said. “And I am here to meet the architects.”

 

“This way, Monsieur.”

 

Reynaud led Raoul to a very small house which was a short walk from the building site. He gave the door a solid knock before opening it and ushering in Raoul and the children.

 

A young man seated at a small desk looked up from the building plans and frowned. “Reynaud, this is hardly appropriate-”

 

“Charles, this is Raoul, the Compte de Chagny,” Reynaud interrupted.

 

The young man’s frown turned to a forced smile as he stood and offered a hand to Raoul. “Forgive me, Compte. I am Charles Garnier. We are all very thankful to you for your financial assistance. It has been my dream for many years to rebuild the Opera House, and you have made it possible.”

 

“I am glad to be of help,” Raoul said, glancing around the small house. “Reynaud has told me that there are two other architects. I should like to meet them as well.”

 

Garnier paused briefly, then said, “Monsieur Lacroix is supervising the work on the east foundation, and the other is away ordering building supplies.”

 

“I should like to see them, regardless,” Raoul said.

 

Garnier tried to not let his annoyance show. “If you would stop by tomorrow, I will make sure they are here to meet you.”

 

“Thank you, Garnier,” Raoul said. As he turned back to the door, out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and a brief flash of yellow near the top of the small dark staircase. He stopped and squinted, searching for more movement, but saw nothing.

 

“ ‘Til tomorrow then,” he said over his shoulder as he left the house.

 

 

  
  


Raoul returned to the building site as early as he dared the next morning, fervently hoping to catch a glimpse of Erik. _It was him, I know it was him...._

 

He began a slow walk around the site, feigning interest. He noticed with sadness the entrance that led to Erik’s lair no longer existed.

 

“Compte de Chagny, I see you have joined us early.” Raoul looked to his left and saw Garnier and another man approaching him.

 

“Albert Lacroix,” the man said, extending a hand.

 

He looked vaguely familiar.

 

“I was a stagehand in the old Opera House,” Lacroix said.

 

Raoul nodded.

 

“After the fire I found myself in need of a job, and happily found that I had an affinity for architecture,” Lacroix said with a slight grin. “I am very confident that this new Opera House will be our magnum opus.”

 

“Reynaud spoke of another,” Raoul said, trying not to sound anxious.

 

Garnier and Lacroix looked at each other, then Garnier said, “He is still procuring building materials for us. He may not be back for some time.”

 

“And his name?”

 

“Martin Roussel.”

 

“I would like to meet him as soon as he returns,” Raoul said firmly.

 

Garnier and Lacroix looked uncomfortable, but assured him that they would inform him immediately of Monsieur Roussel’s return.

 

 

  
  
  


Raoul returned to the building site nearly every day, asking after Roussel and insisting on being educated in every stage of the construction. Garnier became very irritated and went to great lengths to avoid him, but Raoul’s constant presence did not seem to bother Lacroix in the slightest. He patiently explained the building plans, and made sure to show Raoul the progress that was being made in all aspects of the building process.

 

“If everything goes as planned, we should be finished in five to six years.”

 

Raoul said nothing as he took in the activity before him. _He is here… I know he is here._

 

  
  
  


Three months passed, and despite the colder weather Raoul continued his frequent visits to the building site. Soon, even Lacroix started to become weary of his presence.

 

“Compte, there is little more I can show you,” Lacroix told him one day. “A building such as this takes time and careful planning. If only one mistake is made, it must be torn down and we will have to start all over again.”

 

“I see,” Raoul said. He gave the site one last look before returning to his carriage.

 

  
  


That night there was a terrible snowstorm, and the windows of the de Chagny mansion rattled as the fierce wind blasted against them. Raoul sat in his bedroom next to the roaring fire, staring blankly into the hypnotic flames as he nursed a tall glass of his favorite brandy. A sudden movement at his balcony door startled him, and his heart leapt at the sight of the tall figure standing there. He did not think of covering himself against the cold as he rushed barefoot to the door. Stepping out into the freezing storm, he turned to his right and saw Erik standing in the shadows of the moonless night. Even through the flurry of snowfall, Raoul could see Erik’s burning yellow eyes regarding him disdainfully. He stepped towards him.

 

Erik immediately extended his arm, stopping Raoul in his tracks. “I am not here to satisfy any desire of yours,” he said angrily. “I had no need to see you at all, but you have forced my hand.”

 

Raoul just stood there staring, a familiar and long dormant heat rising up inside of him.

 

“You have become an annoyance to my building managers,” Erik continued harshly. “You must stay away.”

 

“You forget that I am financing the building of your precious Opera House, Erik,” Raoul said, equally angry. “If I withdraw my funding, you will have nothing but an empty shell over a hole in the ground.”

 

Erik stepped towards him, his fists clenched and his body shaking. “I did not know that Reynaud would approach you,” he growled. “We did not need your assistance.”

 

“But you have it regardless,” Raoul said.

 

“I have killed men for less than what you have done to me!” Erik thundered, taking a sudden step towards him. “I do not want to see you at the site again!”

 

“Do not threaten me, Erik,” Raoul said, his voice rising. “As much as you hate me, you will not kill me.”

 

They stood in silence for several moments.

 

“Twelve years, Erik-”

 

Erik swung his left fist at Raoul’s face. Blood spurted from his nose and he cried out in pain as he fell to his knees, covering his throbbing nose with his hands.

 

Erik pulled him up by his shirt collar and pushed him against the balustrade, bending him over it. Raoul gasped and coughed against the large pile of snow that had gathered there. Raoul felt a sharp pain at his waist and as his trousers fell away he realized Erik had cut them off of him. He was completely unprepared for the intense agony that came when Erik roughly entered him.

 

Raoul’s scream was cut short when Erik’s hands closed around his throat.

 

“Tell me you haven’t missed this,” Erik hissed as he pounded against him.

 

“Erik, please…. this is not you…. please, stop…” Raoul choked out.

 

Erik grunted as he pushed harder. “Back to begging, are we?” he mocked. “Beg me to stop, Raoul. Let me hear you beg me!”

 

Raoul bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, but did not speak.

 

Erik grabbed a fistfull of Raoul’s hair and twisted it visciously. “Beg me!”

 

Raoul cried out in pain as he felt the skin of his hands and arms tear against the rough stone of the balustrade, but still did not speak.

 

Frustrated, Erik thrust against him until he finished, then pushed him into the snow that had gathered on the floor of the balcony.

 

Raoul groaned and breathed heavily as he rested his head on his arms, still saying nothing.

 

Erik kicked him several times in his ribs, then bent over him. “I do not want to see you again.”

 

He leapt off the balcony and disappeared into the storm.

 

Raoul lay in the freezing snow for several minutes, sobbing in anguish.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

  
  


Raoul slowly dragged himself into his room, gasping and groaning at the intense pain. He managed to ring for Durand, then collapsed onto his chest to the dusty floor.

 

Durand knocked, and Raoul weakly called for him to enter. Seeing Raoul on the floor, Durand cried out and rushed to his side.

 

“Le Compte, what has happened to you?”

 

Raoul looked at him with pain-filled eyes. “Bring warm water and clean rags, Durand.”

 

“But Le Compte-”

 

Raoul closed his eyes in frustration. “Please, Durand, do not ask questions.”

 

Durand rushed away.

 

Raoul lay unmoving on the floor, his snow covered body begining to stick to it. He could feel blood seeping from him and pooling on the floor.

 

Durand soon reappeared with a large steaming kettle and a bowl full of rags. He slowly and tenderly wiped away the blood from Raoul’s face, back, arms, and legs. Raoul groaned and gasped at the pain.

 

When Durand finished, Raoul asked him to bring a heavy blanket to cover himself.

 

“But you are still bleeding, Le Compte.”

 

Raoul smiled bitterly. “It will stop soon enough.”

 

Durand brought the blanket and helped Raoul wrap it around his waist, then assisted him to his bed. Raoul groaned and fell into it with a painful sigh.

 

Durand stood at his bedside, a look of anger on his face. “This is not the first time he has done this.”

 

“I do not wish to discuss it, Durand,” Raoul said firmly. “If you would bring me some brandy, it would help very much with my pain.”

 

Durand bowed and departed.

 

Raoul shifted, remembering a night from so long ago, a night when Erik had touched him and caressed him gently, in this very bed. When Durand returned with the bottle of brandy, Raoul took a long draught and continued drinking until the bottle was empty and his pain faded. His eyes filled with tears, and he fell back against his pillows, sobbing.

 

  
  
  


The next day Raoul stayed in his bed, and asked Durand to tell Philipe and Christine that he was ill and wished not to be disturbed.

 

As Raoul examined the back of his arms, his chest, and stomach, he saw dark purple bruising expand among the scratches he received from being forced against the rough rock of the balustrade. He hesitantly explored his neck and face, and thought he must look like a person raised from the dead.

 

Durand checked on him frequently, begging him to call for a doctor. “He can at least give you laudanum so you can rest, or morphine for the pain-”

 

“No, Durand, and please do not ask me again,” Raoul said angrily.

 

Durand looked at him sadly. “Why are you protecting him? Look at what he has done to you!”

 

Raoul turned away from him. “I do not wish to discuss it, Durand.”

 

 

  


Three days later Raoul felt well enough to leave his bed, although he had to use a cane to assist him. He wore a silk cravat high on his neck and a shirt with long sleeves to hide his bruises.

 

Christine and Philipe gasped when they saw his face.

 

“Oh Father, what has happened to you?” Christine asked, teary eyed.

 

Raoul gave them an embarrassed smile. “I partook of too much brandy and collapsed against my bedpost. It looks worse than it actually is.”

 

“Why the cane, Father?” Philipe asked.

 

“I fell onto my leg and twisted it,” Raoul explained. “Please, let us speak no more of it. How do you both feel about traveling to Spain for Christmas?”

 

*****

 

Two weeks later, Raoul’s bruises faded and he took his carriage to the construction site of the new Opera House. He stepped down from the carriage and took a long look at the scene before him, but did not approach the building. He hoped Erik could see him.

 

As he turned to re enter his carriage he spotted Garnier and Lacroix. He tipped his hat to them, then stepped into the carriage and drove away.

 

****

  


The Opera House took six years to build, and during this time Raoul happily watched his children grow. Phillipe had turned into a fine young man of eighteen, and Raoul was immensely proud of him. He had a great mind for business, and had convinced Raoul to invest in many a venture that had greatly increased their family fortune. Phillipe had great respect for his father, and was fiercely protective of Christine, who had many admirers.

 

“Father, you must do something to stop Phillipe from running off every man who has an interest in me!” Christine complained to him one day. “I will never marry if this continues!”

 

Raoul gave her a stern look. “You are sixteen years old, Christine. You should not be thinking of marriage.”

 

Christine threw up her hands in annoyance. “Then at least let me spend more time with my friends! I never see them anymore either!”

 

“You may,” Raoul said, adding, “As long as Phillipe accompanies you.”

 

Phillipe frowned. “Father, you need me here to help with the affairs of the estate. I cannot always act as a nursemaid for Christine.”

 

Christine threw a cushion at him. “I know you have eyes for Danielle DuPree. I have seen the way you look at her.”

 

Phillipe blushed.

 

Raoul reached out his arms and held his children tightly to him. “Do not try to grow up too fast.”

 

****

  


Raoul did not visit the Opera House until it was finished. Garnier and Lacroix enthusiastically took him on a tour of the new building, showing him everything from the dressing rooms to the beautiful chandelier that hung above the seating gallery.

 

“As you can see, your financial assistance has been crucial to the development of this Opera House,” Garnier said.

 

Raoul nodded and smiled at him. “I am very happy to have contributed.” He paused briefly, then said, “Would you please thank your colleague for me. I regret that I was never able to meet him.”

 

Garnier and Lacroix looked at each other nervously, then Lacroix said, “We will tell him. He is as just grateful as we are, if not more so.”

 

“There is only one thing I request of you,” he later told them. “And that is you must keep box five vacant at all times. I have a special guest who may visit unexpectedly, and I need the space for him.”

 

Garnier gave him a strange look, but did not refuse.

 

 

 

Arrangements were made and rehearsals for a new Opera began, which Raoul strongly believed Erik had written. Raoul very much looked forward to taking Phillipe and Christine to the performance.

 

****

 

On the opening night of the new opera, the house was filled to capacity, with hundreds more being turned away at the door.  The performance was flawless, everyone in the audience giving the performers a standing ovation.

 

As Raoul stood to leave the family box, he looked to box five, having a strong urge to visit it.

 

“Go on and take the carriage home,” he said to Phillipe. “I shall come later.”

 

Raoul waited until the last of the audience had left, then nervously made his way to box five. It was vacant, but when he turned to go, he saw a single red rose resting on one of the chairs. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled its sweet scent, then tucked it into his coat and departed.

 

****

 

For the next several performances Raoul returned to box five, always finding a rose on the same chair. Then one day he arrived and saw no rose there, and he felt his heart sink. _I will never see him again,_  he thought bitterly.

 

Raoul heard the soft rustling of clothing behind him and turned to see Erik standing in the shadows of the box.

 

“Erik… it is good to see you,” Raoul said hesitantly.

 

Erik said nothing as he staggered into the soft light of the box. With alarm Raoul saw his pale naked face shining with sweat, his lips tinged purple.

 

“Raoul… help me…”

 

He collapsed against him and Raoul struggled to hold him as he lowered him to the floor. Raoul rushed to the railing of the box and called out to the stage hands.

 

“You there, call for a doctor, immediately!”

 

The stage hands gave him a startled look, then rushed away.

 

Raoul knelt by Erik’s side and pulled him to his chest. His breathing was shallow, and Raoul worried that he might stop breathing altogether. _Please, Erik, please…. you must live… you must live…_

 

Soon the stage hands arrived escorting a panting doctor. As he knelt next to Raoul, Raoul recognized him as the same doctor who had delivered Philipe and Christine.

 

The doctor gasped with alarm and drew back when he saw the twisted flesh of Erik’s face.

 

“Please doctor, he is a friend of mine,” Raoul plead him. “You must help him.”

 

The doctor turned to the stage hands and said, “Bring me a lantern.” He then lifted Erik’s arm and felt for his pulse.

 

“His pulse is very weak, Monsieur le Compte,” the doctor said. “I am not sure I can help him.”

 

The stagehands returned with a lantern and held it up so the doctor could see more clearly. He pressed a hand to Erik’s forehead, then used two fingers to open his eyes. When the doctor rolled up Erik’s shirt sleeves, Raoul was startled when he saw several tiny sores oozing a white liquid.

 

The doctor frowned. “It is just as I suspected.” He ruffled through Erik’s jacket and produced a small vial and an empty needle. “Morphine.” He pointed to the sores. “His injection sites are infected, he may have taken a lethal dose. I must take him to my clinic immediately.”

 

“If you please, doctor,” Raoul said quickly. “I should wish for him to be brought to my estate. I feel it would be best if he were treated there.”

 

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. He gestured to the two stage hands. “If you would kindly help us to my carriage, gentlemen.”

 

 

****

 

Raoul paced outside of his room, waiting for the doctor to bring him news of Erik.

 

Finally the door opened and the doctor approached him, his face grave. “He is unconscious, and I dare not give you anything for him when he awakens. The only thing we can do is slowly ease him off the morphine, giving him less and less until he is completely free of it. And the withdrawal symptoms will be terrible. He may become very violent.”

 

Raoul’s heart sank. “How long will this last, doctor?”

 

“I do not know.”

 

Raoul looked at his bedroom door sadly.

 

“I will return tomorrow,” the doctor said. “He may recover. Do not give up hope.”

 

When the doctor departed Raoul walked to his bedroom door, opened it, and approached the bed, his heart breaking. Erik’s face was still pale and covered with sweat, his lips looking bruised and purple. He took his hand, placing it between both of his.

 

“So this is him,” Durand said angrily from behind him. “The man who tortured you and abused you, used you then left you, the man who you have pined for all this time?”

 

Raoul turned and glared at him. “I have told you that it is not your business, Durand.”

 

“I have never treated you as he has.”

 

“I do not care for you as I care for him!” Raoul said angrily. “You were a distraction, a release, a way for me to forget. But I never could.”

 

Durand flinched at his words, a look of extreme sadness coming to his face.

 

Raoul sighed. “I will need your help with his recovery. Will you do that for me?”

 

Durand bowed. “I am always at your service, Monsieur le Compte.” Raoul could almost hear the bitterness in his voice.

 

“Thank you, Durand.”

 

Durand nodded, then turned and slowly walked away.

 

  
  


Early the next day Raoul awoke to a sharp knock at the door of the room next to where Erik’s  It was Christine’s old room, and he had not entered it since her death. He pulled on his trousers and rushed to the door, yanking it open. Durand stood there, a tired look on his face.

 

“Forgive me for waking you, Monsieur le Compte, but he is awake. I thought you would like to know.”

 

As Durand turned to go, Raoul took his arm. “I am sorry for what I said to you, Durand. I had no right speaking to you in that way.”

 

“I have always known who I am to you, le Compte,” he said, trying and failing to keep the sadness from his voice. “But for a brief moment I had hoped…” he trailed off, then said, “I will have a breakfast tray brought to him, and see to it he receives all that he needs.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

  


Raoul rushed to Erik’s bedside, relieved to see his yellow eyes looking up at him. “Raoul…” he croaked. “Why did you save me? Why did you not let me die?”

 

“You asked me to help you, Erik.”

 

Erik closed his eyes. “I did not think that you would… you should have left me…”

 

Raoul touched his cold arm. “I couldn’t… You know that I couldn’t.”

 

“Why? I did not want this…” He turned on his side, his back to Raoul. “How can you even stand to look at me? Why do you not hate me…”

 

“Erik, you once told me that you needed me,” Raoul said softly. “I have not forgotten that- I still believe that.”

 

Erik’s body shook. “I need morphine. Right now I need you for morphine,” he said coldly.

 

“I can’t give it to you, Erik. The doctor told me that if you continue to take it, you will die.”

 

Erik turned back to him, his eyes blazing. “That is what I wanted in the first place! Why will you not let me?”

 

“Because… these past years have been agony for me- you don’t know how much my words to you that day have tortured me.”

 

“You torture _me_ by not allowing me to die-”

 

Raoul’s eyes narrowed. "And if anyone knows about torture, it would be you, wouldn’t it.”

 

Erik fell back against the pillows. “Then at least give me a mask. I feel naked without it.”

 

“I will have one made, and my butler will bring it to you. I need to have a long talk with my children.” As Raoul turned to leave, he said, “Try and rest. The doctor will be here soon to examine you.”

 

****

 

Erik felt like he had only been asleep for a few minutes when he heard the door open and footsteps approaching him. He opened his eyes and saw an older man standing over him, his eyes filled with hatred.

 

“Doctor?”

 

“No,” the man said menacingly. “But you will wish I was when I am done with you.”

 

The man grabbed a pillow and was suddenly on top of Erik, pushing it forcefully to his face.

 

Erik swung his arms against the man, but in his weakened state it made little difference. He struggled to breathe and only felt the pillow press harder.

 

“You want to die, then you _will_ die,” he heard the man say. “And I will help you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

  
**A/N:  My dear Readers, this is the first of three possible endings. I will be posting all of them, so I hope you will like at least one.**

 

* * *

* * *

  
  
  


Durand continued to push the pillow down on Erik’s face until he no longer moved. Removing it, he stared down at Erik’s wide-eyed and purple face with a smile. He pushed his eyelids closed and rolled him onto his side, so his back was to the door.

 

_ You have caused enough pain...my Master is done with you, he doesn’t need you… he never did… _

 

Durand wiped the sweat from his face with a handkerchief, then walked to the door. He pulled it open slowly, checking the hallway for anyone who might walk by. Seeing no one, he straightened his waistcoat and cravat, then walked down the hallway to the stairs. He smiled to himself as he descended, convinced that his Master would be so much happier without that scarred and evil man.

  
  


****

 

When the doctor arrived, Raoul peeked into Erik’s room and saw that he was laying on his side. 

 

“He is sleeping, Doctor,” Raoul told him. “I would rather not wake him.”

 

The doctor nodded and handed Raoul two small vials, one clear and the other cloudy. He held up the clear one and said, “This is laudanum. It will help him sleep through the worst of the withdrawal symptoms. The other is morphine. Give it to him in small doses and it should help with the withdrawal symptoms as well.”

 

Raoul smiled and shook the doctor’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough, doctor.”

  
  
  


Night fell and Raoul wondered why Erik had been sleeping so long. But he did not bother him- he knew that Erik needed rest before withdrawal symptoms began.

 

Raoul went to sleep happy, knowing that soon Erik would be back in his life to stay.

  
  
  


Raoul woke early. He softly opened Erik’s door and walked to his bedside. He so badly wanted to climb into the bed beside him, feel his hands touch him, and whisper his desire for him. Raoul put his hand on Erik’s shoulder, and was surprised to find it ice cold. For the first time he noticed that Erik wasn’t breathing. A wave a terror crashed through him when he turned Erik’s cold body over and saw his purple face.

 

Raoul screamed and pulled Erik’s body to him, sobbing uncontrollably. “No, Erik, please no… no, no, no, no…”

 

Raoul heard Philipe’s voice behind him. “What’s wrong, father?”

 

Raoul continued to cry out his grief as Philipe ran to him. Phillipe looked at Erik and recoiled, then rushed from the room, calling for a servant to bring the doctor.

 

“Please, Erik, please, you can’t leave me…”

 

Raoul felt a soft hand on his shoulder. 

 

“I am deeply sorry, le Compte,” he heard Durand say. He tried to pull Raoul away from Erik’s body. “There is nothing you can do for him.”

 

“No, no, no, NO!” Raoul shouted as he pulled Erik tighter to him.

 

The door opened and Philipe and the doctor rushed to the bedside.

 

The doctor to one look at Erik and said, “I’m sorry, le Compte, but he is gone.”

 

Raoul continued to cry out Erik’s name as he rocked his cold body back and forth. He held Erik for several minutes, kissing his cold neck, still not able to accept his death. Finally, Philippe was able to coax him away so that the doctor and the servants could remove Erik’s body.

 

Christine was called for and she and Philippe held their father tightly as he continued to sob. 

  
  
  


A few days later Raoul buried Erik at a far corner of the estate, under a large oak tree. The grave was unmarked, for Raoul knew Erik would want it that way.

  
  
  


Raoul tried to keep himself busy, but pain and grief often consumed him, and he would spend hours in his study staring at nothing, his mind blank and his eyes unfocused. 

 

Early one morning just as Raoul was exiting his room, he saw Christine and Philippe approaching him. 

 

“We would like to talk to you, Father,” Christine said.

 

He gestured for them to enter his study. They both sat on a couch while Raoul leaned against the edge of his desk.

 

“You told us that Erik was a special person to you,” Christine said. “And that he had never wanted to meet Philipe and I because of the way he looked.”

 

Raoul nodded.

 

“But you have never spoken of him, or told us anything about him, until just recently,” Philipe said.

 

Raoul tried not to show how uncomfortable he was. “Yes.”

 

“You have never lied to us, Father,” Philipe said. “But we feel you have omitted certain truths.”

 

Raoul stiffened as he regarded his children, and did not speak.

 

“Erik was more than just special to you, wasn’t he,” Christine said.

 

Raoul turned away from them and walked to his balcony door. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. 

 

“And now that you know who I really am, what will you do?” he said angrily. “Will I see myself shamed in newspapers? Will I lose my fortune when you cast me out? Will I be spending the rest of my days begging for scraps on the street?”

“Father, if you think that, then you don’t know us _ ,”  _ Philipe said firmly. He walked to Raoul and forced him to turn so he was facing him and Christine.

 

“You always taught us to be kind, accepting, non-judgmental, loyal, generous- I can think of so many other things, Father,” Christine said. “Did you think we were not listening? Do you think that we would not apply them to you?”

 

“But I was never the man I should have been.” Raoul could not meet their eyes. “Because of my own selfish desires, I broke your mother’s heart.”

 

“You have more than made up for that, Father,” Philipe said. “Do you think that she would not be proud of you? Of how you have raised us? Of how you have loved us?”

 

Tears filled Raoul’s eyes and he held out his arms for them.  “You both are so precious to me,” he said, holding them tightly.

 

After a few moments Philippe drew back from Raoul with a big smile on his face. “I have happy news, Father. I have asked to court Danielle DuPree, and her father has said yes.” He blushed. “I want marry her.”

 

Christine’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t know that now, Philipe!”

 

Philippe shrugged. “I think I do.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


One week after Erik’s death, Raoul had just finished luncheon with Philipe and Christine when a footmen approached him and asked to speak with him. Raoul’s eyebrows rose- it was very unusual for a footman to talk to the Master of the house.

 

The man looked terribly nervous. “Forgive me, Monsieur le Compte, but myself, the cook and one of the maids should like to speak to you.”

 

“If you talk to Durand, he will convey the message to me,” Raoul said.

 

As he turned to leave, the footman stayed with him and whispered, “Monsieur le Compte, it is Durand that I wish to talk to you about.”

 

Raoul eyed the man curiously. “I am listening.”

 

The footman looked up and down the hallway fearfully.

 

“Speak man, I have business elsewhere.”

 

“That man… Monsieur Erik… he did not die in his sleep.”

 

Raoul heart jumped within him and he flinched. “Go on.”

 

“I was assisting the cook with a luncheon tray and the maid was accompanying us with a linen towel,” the footman said softly. “We saw Durand enter the room, then exit a few minutes later. We reached the the door and knocked, but when it was not answered we retreated to the kitchen.” The footman rubbed his hands against his coat. “I immediately became suspicious when I heard Durand say that he had not been upstairs at all that afternoon. And then I heard that Monsieur Erik had died-”

 

“What exactly are you saying?” Raoul interrupted. “That Durrand is responsible for Erik’s death?”

 

“He was downstairs in the servants dining area then all of a sudden disappeared. I thought this odd because I had not heard a calling bell. He had charged us with bringing a luncheon tray for Monsieur Erik, so it was soon put out of my mind. But when we saw him at Monsieur Erik’s door, we knew something was not right, for he had said that he had not been upstairs.”

 

“How did he not see you, or hear you?”

 

“We had just come from the back stairs. It is a long walk from them to your rooms.”

 

Raoul folded his arms and looked down at the floor.  _ It can’t be Durand, it can’t be… he has been so loyal to me… _

 

Raoul looked at the footman and said, “Where is he now?”

 

“Preparing your wardrobe for tomorrow, I believe.”

 

“Bring the cook and the maid to my study, and then I will ring for him.”

 

The footman bowed and left him. Anger rose inside of him as he walked to his study.  _ Durand will pay dearly for this… _

  
  
  


Raoul paced impatiently in his study until the footman, the cook, and the maid arrived. They all looked terribly frightened. Raoul went to the rope on the wall and pulled it twice. Soon there was a knock at the door, and Raoul called for Durand to enter.

When Durand entered and saw his fellow servants standing there, his eyebrows rose in confusion.

 

Raoul gave him a harsh glare. “These three have made a serious accusation against you, Durand. I hope, for your sake, that it is not true.”

 

Durand’s lips formed a firm line as he stared at them. “And what is this accusation?”

 

“That you are responsible for the death of my friend, Erik.”

 

Durand scoffed. “You cannot really believe them, can you? I have been in your service for over forty years!”

 

“Then you can explain why you entered and exited Erik’s room unbidden the day before I found him.”

 

Durand shrugged. “Merely a courtesy visit. To see if he was comfortable or needed anything.”

 

Raoul turned to the footman. “Were you not told by Durand to bring a food tray for Erik?”

 

The footman nodded. “Yes, le Compte.”

 

“So he would have been awake at the time.” Raoul said.

 

The footman nodded again. “Yes.”

 

“But when you arrived with the tray, Erik did not answer your call at the door.”

 

“Yes, le Compte.”

 

Raoul turned back to Durand. “Erik would not have told you to enter if he was sleeping, Durand.”

 

“How can you believe his word over mine?” Durand said angrily.

 

“Because not just one person saw you, but three,” Raoul said, his eyes burning. “I cannot ignore their claims.”

 

A look of fear came to Durand’s eyes. “Do they know what you are?” he burst out. “Do they know that you are a lover of men?”

 

Raoul gave him an indifferent look. “I spoke to all the servants days ago, Durand. They seemed to have no issue with it. The man-servants, however, had a great deal to tell me about  _ you _ .”

 

Durand rushed to the door, but before he opened it, Raoul called out to him. “The gendarmes have been sent for. They may already be here.”

 

Durand looked defeated. “What will you do with me?”

 

“The asylum, most likely. I don’t ever want to see or hear of you again.”

 

“The asylum?” Durand exclaimed. “Surely I am not deserving of that!”

 

“You took him from me,” Raoul hissed. “I will never forgive you.”

  
  


****

  
  


Days and years passed as if in a dream. Philippe had married Danielle, and Christine had married her suitor. When Raoul’s grandchildren started arriving, he took great delight in their company, often providing them with sweets, to which their parents often chided him for.

 

“Father, their teeth will rot if you continue this,” Philipe said as he rid his sons pocket of sweets.

 

Raoul gave him and innocent look. “I don’t know from what you are talking of, Philippe.” 

 

“I don’t know either, Father,” Philippe's son said fervently. “But the butler recieves them on Fridays.”

 

Raoul looked betrayed.

 

Philippe patted his son on the back. “Run along, Erik. I need to speak with your grandfather.”

 

Raoul smiled as he watched his grandson depart. “I will try to control myself when it comes to giving them sweets, Philippe. Sometimes I just cannot help it.”

 

Philippe gave Raoul a concerned look. “Father, I worry about you living in this huge house by yourself.” He paused for a moment. “Have you… found someone? I would feel more comfortable if you did.”

 

Raoul shook his head, a small smile coming to his lips. “Not since Erik. I can never replace him, Philipe.”

 

Philippe put his hand on Raoul’s shoulder. “Then Danielle and I shall move in. We will keep the children in a separate part of the house so they are not too trying on your nerves.”

 

Raoul chuckled and smiled at his son. “I would like that very much, Philipe.”

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second ending of the story. Enjoy.
> 
> ~PJ

  
  
  
  
  


Erik  continued to struggle against Durand, twisting and turning his body enough to take a gasping breath.

 

He heard a shout and the pressure was lifted. Erik turned on his side, gasping and coughing. He heard scuffling and swearing, then the unmistakeable sound of flesh hitting flesh. There was a cry, then silence. Erik continued to gasp and cough, then felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

He turned on his back and looked up at Raoul’s bloody face.

 

Raoul gently touched the ruined side of Erik’s face. “He almost took you from me.”

 

“Raoul, I know  _ you _ want me to live, but it’s not what  _ I _ want,” Erik said softly. “I asked him to kill me.” 

 

Horrified surprise filled Raoul’s face. “You  _ asked  _ him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Raoul took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood off his face. 

 

“I knew he hated me from the moment he saw me,” Erik said. “I knew he would take pleasure from it.”

 

“I can’t lose you again, Erik.”

 

“It is not your decision to make, Raoul!” 

 

Raoul turned from him and walked to the door. He opened it and called for his servants. When they arrived he instructed them to tie up Durand and call for the gendarmes. When they had gone Raoul again returned to Erik’s side.

 

“Now he won’t be able to help you.”

 

Erik glared at him. “If you won’t let me, I will find another way.”

 

Raoul sighed. “At least let the doctor look at you. Maybe he can help with your sores.”

 

“What for? I want to die, Raoul.”

 

“Please Erik, do it for me… just a while longer.”

 

Erik nodded his assent. “Just for a while.”

 

 

  
  


When the doctor arrived he examined Erik’s sores. “You will need to put a poultice on these and wrap them up. Make sure you change them a few times a day.” He looked Erik in the eye. “The withdrawal symptoms may last up to ten days, and they will be terrible for you.”

 

“I don’t want withdrawals, how many times must I say it? Inject me with a lethal dose and have done with it!”

 

Raoul thanked the doctor and he departed.

 

“I can’t let you, Erik…” Raoul choked on the words. “I can't..”

 

“Why?” Erik demanded. “Is this your revenge on me for what I have done to you? Do you want me to apologize? What do you want from me?”

 

“I want you to stay with me, Erik!” Raoul shouted.

 

“I said I would stay a short while! That is all I promised!” Erik cried weakly.

 

“Do you remember the words you spoke to me? You asked me to come to you, and you told me that you needed me, that you always would,” Raoul said.

 

“That was almost twenty years ago, Raoul,” Erik said softly.

 

“Do you expect me to believe that you were lying?” Raoul asked.

 

Erik did not answer.

 

“If you were, you certainly convinced me otherwise, several times.”

 

A slight red color filled Erik’s pale face.

 

“Why do want to die, Erik? What has happened to you that you would desire it so badly?” Raoul asked.

 

Erik clenched his fists. “The total and complete injustice I felt when you told me that your life was in ruins…. you know nothing of a ruined life, Raoul.” Erik’s eyes burned with anger when he looked at him. “From the moment I was born I was despised and rejected. My mother would have let me die uncared for had it not been for a local priest. In all my life it was only he, one other, and Madame Giry who have ever showed me any type of kindness.” Erik shifted among the pillows, his eyes dropping to look at his hands. “My whole life I have had to hide from the world because of my appearance. I have never been wanted or needed by anyone. There has been no meaning or purpose in my life, except when I had the Opera House built. And even that was taken from me.” Erik shook his head. “My life has always been a complete ruin, Raoul. And by the time you first started visiting my lair I was in a devastated rage. I wanted to cause you as much pain as possible. I blamed you for the loss of Christine, and my Opera House.

 

“At first I was happy that I was able to take my revenge on you,” Erik continued. “But to have you seek me out and desire me… I could not remove that from my mind. I became ashamed at what I had done to you. Then, strangely, I found myself desiring  _ you _ , and I could not remove that from my mind, either. It was on impulse that I sent the note. I did not expect you to come.”

 

“I was curious as to why you wanted me there,” Raoul said. “The thought that  _ you  _ desired  _ me  _ had never once crossed my mind.”

 

Erik looked at him sadly. “In you I thought I had finally found someone who would heal me… help me feel like my life was not a complete waste. Your words hurt me deeply, Raoul.” Erik sighed. “Since then I have thought about taking my own life many times, but I could not bring myself to do it. I went to Prussia, Spain, Portugal, and Italy, always seeking more knowledge of building and architecture, music and composure. I worked myself to the bone trying to forget about you. But I never could.” Erik bit his lip. “I never wanted to return here- I cannot tell you what drew me back. But when I saw you at the building site, I was reminded of what you had said to me…” He shook his head. “When I came to you that night…I was so full of pain and anger against you…but I did not mean for it to happen...and then you said that it wasn’t me who was doing that to you…”

 

“Erik-”

 

“I’ve hated myself since then, Raoul,” Erik said. “I thought I had lost you forever. The only way to escape was through morphine.”

 

“You could have used it to kill yourself before now.”

 

“I was going to, right after the Opera House was finished,” Erik said. “But then you left me box five… and I knew I couldn’t. I had to see you, one last time.”

 

“Erik, I can’t lose you again,” Raoul said fervently. “I have spent eighteen years without you.  I have agonized over what I said.” He took Erik’s hand and placed it on his tear soaked cheek. “Christine once told me that my heart and mind belonged to someone else. I knew what she meant then, and I still know what it means. Please, Erik. Don’t leave me.”

 

“I do not think I have the strength, Raoul. The symptoms will be the death of me.”

 

“Just hold on, Erik. Do it for me.”

 

Erik nodded and closed his eyes

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Erik fell asleep, Raoul quietly left the room and found Philippe and Christine waiting for him in the hallway.  They looked at him with stony faces. 

 

“We need to talk to you, Father,” Christine said.

 

He gestured for them to follow him to his study. They entered behind him and closed the door firmly. Raoul sat at his desk while Philippe and Christine remained standing. They stared at him for several moments.

 

“Who is Erik to you, Father?” Philippe asked harshly. 

 

Raoul glared at him. “Why do you want to know?”

 

“We have heard many accusations and we need to know if they are true,” Christine said.

 

Raoul gave a bitter laugh. “And who have these accusations come from?”

 

“Durand and some of the other servants, a lot more than you would think, Father,” Philippe said.

 

“Why is it important for you to know?”

 

“Do not make light of this, Father,” Christine said, frustrated. “We know now that the accusations must be true by the way you have avoided the questions!”

 

“And what exactly are the accusations?”

 

“That you lie with him as you would a woman!” Philippe shouted. “He has been seen coming and going from your balcony, and one servant said he saw Erik abuse you over your own balustrade!”

 

Raoul spread his hands and shrugged. “I cannot deny what they have said.” Raoul rose from his desk. “I care for him a great deal. I am not going to apologize for that.”

 

“I never thought that I would feel this way about my own father,” Philippe said bitterly. “But now I would not care if you were dead at my feet.”

 

“Phillipe, don’t you think that is a little harsh?” Christine asked.

 

Philippe turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Christine looked at Raoul with sad eyes. “I did not want to believe it, Father. I still cannot comprehend it.”

 

Raoul stepped towards her and took her hand. “Will you talk to him for me? He has the power to disgrace me and as my heir he could throw me from the house with nothing to my name.”

 

“I will, Father, but I do not suspect that he will respond any different than he has just now,” Christine said.

 

Christine turned to leave the room, then paused. “Did you love our Mother?”

 

“I will not lie to you, Christine,” Raoul said. “I loved her to a certain extent, I desired her company, and we always were great friends and companions. But Erik… he awakened something inside of me… I cannot explain it. It just is.”

 

“Durand said that Erik abused you so badly that you were bruised and bleeding and could barely walk for several days,” Christine said. “But you always went back to him.”

 

“Something draws me to him, Christine,” Raoul said. “Like a moth to a flame.”

 

Christine squeezed his hand and left the room.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next several days were terrible for Erik- he was dizzy and vomiting, shivering and aching, not able to leave his bed. He often begged Raoul to let him die. 

 

“I do not want this, Raoul. You are prolonging my pain. Please, just let me go.”

 

Raoul did not reply, just held Erik tightly to him, and whispered to him to hold on a little longer.

  
  
  
  


 

 

It was over a week before Phillipe would see Raoul, and their meeting was awkward and filled with tension. Christine stood between them.

 

“I know what you could do to me, Phillipe, and I am grateful that you haven’t,” Raoul said.

 

“All that I have is because of you, Father,” Philippe said angrily. “You can end this foolishness right now and we can go on as we did before.” He clenched his fists. “If not, I cannot bear to have you in this house, with…  _ him _ … any longer. I need you as far away from me as possible.” 

 

He took papers from his coat and handed them to Christine, who in turn handed them to Raoul.

 

“There is house on an estate near Granada in southern Spain. It was supposed to be used as a vacation spot,” Philipe said. “It has never been used, so I am giving it to you. When you arrive there, send me word and I will provide you with a monthly stipend on which you will be able to live comfortably.”

 

“I am aware of the place. You are more than generous, Philipe. I would ask that you let us stay until Erik is well enough to travel,” Raoul said.

 

Philippe gave him a sharp nod.

 

“Why so far away, Philippe?” Christine asked.

 

“You know why, Christine,” Philipe said, curtly. “I want nothing more to do with him.”

 

 

  
  
  
  


Erik’s withdrawal symptoms seemed to get worse-  his dizziness and vomiting increased, and the shivering and aching did not allow him to sleep. Raoul spent most of his days at Erik’s bedside, pacing the floor and trying to meet his every need. He would often fall asleep on the floor, with his head and arms resting against Erik’s bed.

 

Early one morning he heard a soft voice coaxing him awake. He opened his eyes and saw Erik looking at him curiously. 

 

“Vicomte, you flatter me.”

 

Raoul gave him a tired smile, the phrase bringing back a flood of memories.

 

Erik reached out a hand and Raoul grasped it tightly.

 

“How are you feeling?” Raoul asked him.

 

“I have felt better, but I think I may be well enough to finally leave this bed.” Erik tried to push himself up, then collapsed against the pillows.

 

“You never were a patient person, Erik,” Raoul chided him. Raoul stood and pulled Erik’s blanket closer to him. “It will take at least two days for you to be able to sit up or walk without assistance.”

 

Erik scowled. “If I must.” 

 

Raoul sat on the edge of the bed. “Erik, there are things I need to tell you… about my son, and our… situation.”

 

“Oh, it is called a ‘situation’?” 

 

“Philipe wants us to leave for Granado as soon as possible,” Raoul said. 

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I wouldn’t let you go,” Raoul said. “I tried to explain to him what you mean to me, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

 

“I mean enough to you that you would give up everything- your fortune, your family, your life?” Erik asked incredulously. “You are even more daft than I first thought.”

 

Raoul smiled. “Yes, I suppose I am.” He reached out his hand and placed it on Erik’s chest. A familiar and long dormant heat rose inside of him when Erik gasped at his touch. Erik placed his hand over Raoul’s and held it there. Erik’s breathing increased until he was almost gasping. He threw his covers off and gestured to the rising bulge in his groin.

 

“Raoul, it hurts...help me…”

 

Raoul stood and walked swiftly to the bedroom door, locking it tightly. Returning to Erik’s bed, he lay beside him and slid his hand down to Erik’s pulsing desire. Raoul covered Erik’s lips with his to keep him from crying out.

 

“Shhhh,” Raoul whispered against his mouth. “If we are found out there will be hell to pay.”

 

Erik rose up on his arms and bit his tongue as Raoul stroked him, slowly increasing as Erik pushed his hips against his hand. 

 

“Ahhh...” Erik gasped as he finally released. He fell back into the bed, breathing heavily. “I have forgotten how amazing your hands feel on me.” 

 

Raoul looked at him. “Erik... the last time I felt  _ your  _ hands on  _ me..” _

 

“You are afraid that I might abuse you again.” Erik caressed Raoul's cheek with the back of his hand. “If your son will be sending us to Granado, we can live a quiet life there, together,” Erik said. “No more short and hurried encounters, no more stealing away, no more of having to be silent for fear of being heard.” Erik cupped his hand against Raoul’s cheek. “I will make up for it, I promise you.”

 

Raoul smiled and kissed Erik’s hand. “I look forward to it.”

  
  


****

 

The house in Granado was small but comfortable. Erik used the largest room as his music room, and would often play and sing well into the night. Raoul spent hours watching and listening to him, hypnotized by his voice and enthralled by his music. When Erik played, he played out his soul, lost in the beauty of it.

 

The house had a large window facing west. Every evening Raoul would stand before it and watch the setting sun. For the first time in his life, he felt the peace and tranquility he had always longed for.

 

Raoul felt Erik’s arms slide around his waist, his chin coming to rest against Raoul’s ear.

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

Raoul leaned back against Erik and rested his arms on top of his. “You. Us.”

 

“Good things, I would hope,” Erik said. Raoul could hear a trace of humor in his voice.

 

Raoul raised his hand and held it against Erik’s ruined cheek. Erik did not wear his mask in the house- he did not need to. “I love this change in you. You are a completely different person.”

 

“I have changed as my surroundings have changed,” Erik said. “I do not have to run, I do not have to hide. It is a sort of strange relief.”

 

“Are you happy here?” Raoul asked.

 

Erik paused, then said, “I have never felt happiness. Contentment, maybe, but not happiness.”

 

“When did you feel contentment?”

 

Erik gave a small laugh. “I think you know the answer to that, Raoul.”

 

Raoul turned to face him. “I can help you feel happiness, not just contentment.” He put his arms around Erik’s waist. 

 

“It may take a while,” Erik said.

 

“Good.”

 

Raoul slid a hand down into Erik’s trousers and massaged him gently and slowly, then quickened when he felt him swell. Erik gasped with pleasure, holding tightly to Raoul’s arm. Raoul pushed Erik’s trousers down and knelt before him as Erik stepped out of them. He took Erik into his mouth and slowly ran his tongue over Erik’s silky soft skin. Erik grabbed fistfulls of Raoul’s hair and cried out in pleasure. Raoul put his hands on Erik’s thighs and held him in place as he sucked and lightly ran his teeth over his length. Raoul sucked harder and massaged him until Erik’s desire burst from him. Raoul swallowed, then stood and removed Erik’s shirt. He wrapped his arms around him and lightly kissed his chest, neck, jaw, and ear before finally meeting his mouth, kissing him passionately. 

 

“I remember this…” Erik whispered breathlessly. “It has been far too long…”

 

He took Raoul’s arm and led him to the bed. Pushing him into it, he tore at Raoul’s clothes until he lay naked under him.

 

“Erik-” Raoul said, with rising alarm.

 

Erik pushed Raoul over and held him there.

 

Raoul struggled against him. “Erik, no... you promised…”

 

Raoul tensed when he felt Erik’s silky need press against him. “You said you needed me with you. This is what  _ I  _ need from  _ you _ …”

 

Raoul struggled against Erik as hard as he could. “Your life isn’t ruined anymore, Erik! You said yourself that you don’t have to run anymore, you don’t have to hide anymore! You are with someone who cares for you and wants you, you don’t have to take anything by force!”

 

Raoul felt the pressure on him lift and he turned over to see Erik retreat into a shadowed corner of the room.

 

Raoul sat on the edge of the bed. “I will give myself to you willingly, and at any time you desire, Erik. You do not have to force yourself on me.”

 

“This is exactly why I wanted myself dead, Raoul!” Erik cried out in anguish. “I cannot control this demon inside me…I have not changed at all.”

 

Raoul walked towards him, and felt for him in the darkness. When his hand met Erik’s chest he held it there. “You have before, Erik, do you remember? All of those times I came to you, those times you came to me… I know you are capable of taming it.”

 

When Erik did not reply, Raoul took his hand and led him to the bed. “Let me show you.”

 

As Erik lay down, Raoul moved to one side of him and pushed him to his side until his back was to him. He lay behind him and trailed kisses up his spine, causing Erik to shudder with pleasure. Raoul reached around and pressed a hand to Erik’s chest as he slowly entered him. Erik gasped and held tightly to Raoul’s hand as Raoul gently thrust against him.

 

Erik reached down and fondled himself, making his pleasure increase as Raoul quickened his thrusts. 

 

“Harder Raoul… please…”

 

Raoul pulled Erik tighter against him, pushing and rocking himself further into him. Erik moaned and writhed in ecstasy.

 

“You see… you see how it can be done… “ Raoul whispered into his ear.

 

Erik bent and pushed himself back against Raoul’s thrusts. “More…”

 

Raoul gritted his teeth and gasped out, “I’m almost there, Erik-”

 

Raoul dug his fingers into Erik’s chest and cried out his release, rocking against him slowly as he withdrew.

 

Raoul rested his chin on Erik’s shoulder, both of them breathing heavily.

 

“You always were the gentle one,” Erik breathed.

 

“I remember you being gentle and generous with me on several occasions, Erik,” Raoul whispered into his ear. 

 

Erik turned to face him, but could not meet his eyes. “I do not trust myself to please you, not at the moment. What I have done to you-” he took Raoul’s hand and kissed it. “You are not the only one who I have abused. I knew that I would never find anyone who would give themselves to me willingly.”

 

Raoul pulled Erik to him and kissed him, slowly exploring his mouth with his tongue.

 

Erik rose and put a hand on his chest, pushing him onto his back. The muscles and veins in his arms bulged with tension. “You can’t do that and expect me not to respond,” he growled against Raoul’s lips.

 

Raoul put his hands on both sides of Erik’s face. “I give myself to you willingly, Erik. Remember that.”

 

“Raoul… you said you wanted me with you, and, despite everything I have done to you, cared for me. Why?”

 

Raoul gave him a small smile. “I would have thought it obvious.”

 

Erik lowered himself to Raoul’s side and rested his head on his hand, his brow furrowed.

 

Raoul took Erik’s other hand a placed it over his heart.

 

Erik’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “How could- how do you know?”

 

Raoul smiled again. “It started with infatuation and obsession, but when you told me you needed me, and all those times you asked me to come to you, I knew you must feel something more than need.” He pressed Erik’s hand. “That’s when I knew that I loved you.”

 

“But I have never felt more than need.”

 

“I do not believe that, Erik. You have felt more than you think, I am sure of it.” At Erik’s  confused look, Raoul said, “I have been surrounded by love most of my life, Erik. I know what it feels like.”

 

“And you feel it still?”

 

“It has never left me.” Raoul rose up on an elbow and looked into Erik’s troubled eyes. “We have time, Erik. I can help you heal.”

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


Shortly after they arrived in Granado, they spread rumors to the local populace that Erik was Raoul’s invalid cousin, and Erik used a cane to further convince them. Soon they took no note of Erik’s mask, and he and Raoul were able to walk about the neighborhood with ease.

 

Word of Erik’s musical abilities spread quickly, and he was convinced to give weekly performances at a local music hall. Erik enjoyed it immensely, and was grateful for the opportunity to display his musical talents.

  
  


One night as they were returning from a performance, Erik noticed Raoul giving him a curious look.

 

“Does something amuse you, Raoul? It cannot be my mask.”

 

“Erik… I do not think you even realize it, but you are  _ smiling _ ,” Raoul said.

 

At this Erik’s smile widened. “I  _ have _ smiled before, Raoul.”

 

“Not as you are now.”

 

It wasn’t until they were inside the house that Erik answered him. Before Raoul could light a lamp, Erik put his hands on Raoul’s shoulders and pulled him backwards until he collided with his chest.

 

“Erik-” Raoul said nervously. He shivered when he felt Erik’s lips travel down the side of his neck.

 

“You want to know why I am smiling?” Erik whispered. “Let me show you.”

 

Erik ran his thumbs over the top of Raoul's trousers until he reached the front of them. He placed one hand firmly to Raoul’s stomach and slowly slid the other down and gently stroked him. 

 

Raoul gasped as his body responded. He reached out his hand and brought it to the back of Erik’s neck, digging his fingers in as he pulled him forward. “Erik…”

 

Erik increased his massages until Raoul was rocking against his hand, moaning for him to continue.

 

Erik massaged him vigorously until Raoul’s hot seed burst from him. Raoul collapsed against Erik’s arms, gasping and breathing heavily.

 

Erik lifted Raoul’s quivering and limp body and carried him to their bed, gently laying him upon it. Raoul’s breathing slowed as Erik undressed him, then undressed himself. Erik straddled Raoul and bent and kissed him softly. 

 

“You said you willingly give yourself to me,” he whispered in Raoul’s ear.

 

“I do, Erik.”

 

“That means you trust me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then let me inside you.”

 

Raoul hesitated for a moment, then rolled over. Erik lifted his end up and pressed his silky bulge against him. He felt Raoul tense at his touch.

 

Erik bent over him and lightly kissed a trail down his back. Raoul shivered.

 

“Trust me.”

 

Erik entered him slowly, and felt Raoul clench against him. Raoul sank his hands into the bed coverings and twisted them in his fists as he arched his back and gasped at the pain.

 

Erik ran his fingers lightly down Raoul’s spine until he felt his muscles relax, then gently moved against him. Raoul rocked forward with him and moaned as his breath escaped from him in sharp bursts. 

 

Erik continued to gently move against him, slowly increasing his movements until he cried out his release and fell against Raoul’s back, collapsing them both to the bed. They lay together gasping for breath, their sweat mingling and their bodies shuddering.

 

“Erik….”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I can’t breathe-” Raoul wheezed.

 

Erik gave a small laugh. He rose up on his knees and gently nipped the back of Raoul’s neck. “You are my morphine…”

 

Raoul laughed softly. “Except that I won't kill you.”

 

Erik fell to Raoul’s side and traced a pattern on his back as Raoul turned his head to look at him.

 

Erik made a half smile.

 

“What is it?” Raoul asked.

 

Erik did not meet Raoul’s eyes, continuing to trace a pattern on his back. “Do you think that one day I could feel as you do… that I could love you?”

 

Raoul answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

 

“I know that I desire you, but right now I am afraid to feel anything more than that. My wounds are still raw and bleeding.”

 

Raoul turned on his side and took Erik’s hand. “It is as I told you before, Erik. We have time. I will help you.”

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


Years passed, and through Raoul’s patient teaching, Erik was able to slowly break down the walls surrounding his heart. They spent many nights pleasing each other, their sweat drenched bodies writhing in ecstasy. 

 

One evening as Raoul was standing at the window watching a beautiful sunset, he felt Erik’s breath on his neck and his arms slide around his waist. Erik’s touch had never failed to make him shiver with pleasure.

 

“Raoul… I think I am feeling it.”

 

Raoul turned in Erik’s arms, raising a hand to touch his face. “Tell me.”

 

“I feel slightly nauseous.” Erik smiled faintly as he took Raoul’s hands in his and looked deeply into his eyes. “I have felt this way for some time, but I was not sure what it was. I see how you look at me- there is never fear in your eyes, never disgust, only what you say is love.” He raised Raoul’s hands and placed them over his heart. “When I look at you… it is like coming out of a dark room into the light. Like the sun is shining on me, every minute of every day.”

 

“Everyone feels love differently, so I can not tell you if what you feel is love or not,” Raoul said. “But you do not need to hide your feelings, or bury them. You already know how I feel about you, Erik.”

 

“Will I always feel this way?”

 

Raoul smiled and pulled Erik to him, kissing him softly. “Yes, I will make sure of it.”

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


For several years Raoul wrote letters to Phillipe and Christine, but they were never answered. This saddened him greatly, and he fervently hoped that they were well. 

 

Raoul and Erik continued to live happily and peacefully until one day Erik suddenly fell ill, and was unable to leave his bed. Raoul called for the doctor many times, and each time the doctor told him that there was nothing he could do, and that Erik could pass at anytime.

 

Raoul spent many hours crying at Erik’s bedside, begging him to live.

 

“I am afraid that you won’t be able to stop me this time,” Erik said weakly. He put a hand to Raoul’s tear stained cheek. “You have taken my ruined life and made it joyful. You have opened my eyes to the beauty around me, and have made me unafraid to feel. I have loved you Raoul, but now I must go.”

 

Raoul climbed into the bed and held Erik until he breathed no more.

 

 

  
  
  


Nearly the entire village came to Erik’s funeral, all of them offering Raoul their condolences. He had not realized how much Erik had meant to them, and was very grateful to them.

 

As the last of the guests left, Raoul put a hand on Erik’s coffin. 

 

“I will see you soon.”

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers,
> 
> First of all, THANK YOU for following this story until the end. I never intended for it to take almost a year for me to write this chapter, but it was just begging to be written, and I just could not end the story without this third ending. Believe it or not, I was watching Deadpool 2 and had my wife say to me, "Just finish the damn thing" when I got the sudden motivation and burst of imagination to write. And, viola! here you go.
> 
> Again, I thank you for taking the time to read, and staying with me until the end.
> 
> ~PJ

**Beneath a Moonless Sky**

**Third Ending**

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


Erik flailed his arms until he felt one connect with the side of Durand’s face. The pressure slackened slightly, the he felt his arms being forced down to his sides.

“Fool, I said to render him unconscious, not kill him!”

Erik panicked. “Raoul?”

The pillow was once again pressed to his face, and everything went dark.

 

  


The bright sunlight felt warm and comforting on Erik’s unruined face as he took in the beautiful blue sky, and he was floating… weightless, fearless, free… and the music… _his_ music… everything that he had ever written, or had wanted to write, filling his ears, his mind, his body, with the most amazing feeling of peace and tranquility, accomplishment and triumph… _I have never believed in Heaven… could this be what it is like?_

Then suddenly he was falling, the euphoric feelings giving way to dread and impending doom. It seemed like he was falling forever. He screamed when the ground rose up to meet him.

 

Erik jerked awake. Complete darkness greeted him. While his eyes adjusted to it, he felt around him and noticed that he was lying on a rough blanket over a thin layer of straw, under which was a hard metal surface.

Erik’s heart gave a mighty jolt. _Oh no… not a cage… please, please, not a cage…_

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Erik looked around him and found his worst fears confirmed- in the darkness he could see thick metal bars surrounding him on four sides. He sat up and all at once noticed that he was unmasked and unclothed. His dread deepened.

Erik stood and pushed and pulled at the unyielding bars, searching for any type of weakness.There was none.

Hours passed and he waited. _Surely I will not be left here to die._  He wrapped the small rough blanket around his waist and curled up in a corner of the cage.

  
  
  
  


Erik flinched when he felt a sharp jab to his back. He did not remember falling asleep.

“Come on, then, show me your beautiful face!” came a harsh voice.

Erik felt another sharp jab. He covered his face with his hands and twisted to look at his attacker.

In the faint light he saw a short, heavy-set man wearing no shirt regarding him curiously. The man shifted his stained fedora as he chewed on an unlit cigar. He prodded Erik’s arm with the handle of a broom.

Erik gave him his most withering stare.

“Put those hands down, I want to see what I’m paying for.”

Erik said nothing.

Frustrated, the man jabbed the handle against Erik’s hands. In one swift move Erik pulled the handle towards him, then quickly let go. The end of the broom stabbed into the man’s face and he collapsed to the floor, howling in pain. Erik watched in satisfaction as he saw blood stream from between the fingers pressed to the man’s face. Cursing, the man rose from the floor and swiftly disappeared.

Erik looked around him and saw that he was in a warehouse of some kind. Shipping crates and other cages lay scattered around the huge space. He covered his face again when he heard voices approaching, and his stomach twisted painfully as he recognized one of them.

“I told you he was nothing but trouble. It is your own fault.”

“Raoul-” Erik whispered.

Raoul and the man with bloody face rounded a stack of crates and stood in front of Erik’s cage.

Erik leapt to his feet and wrapped his hands around the thick bars.

Raoul gestured at him, head to foot. “You see, you have your monster, Forsythe. He is well worth the amount you paid.”

Erik clenched his jaw.

Raoul smirked at him and walked away.

Erik yelled and wrenched his arms against the bars. “You’ll never be rid of me! I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you! I’ll _kill_ you!”

Forsythe shrank away from him.

Erik continued to yell and pound at the bars until he slumped to the bottom of the cage, exhausted and sobbing.

  


The events Erik had spent a lifetime trying to forget became his new reality-  the gasps and exclamations of disgust, the cries of fear, the harsh laughs of derision- all of it echoed in his ears and raped his mind long after the crowds had vanished.

At first Erik tried to hide himself from them, and his vain efforts were a great amusement to Forsythe. The disgusting man loudly proclaimed Erik to be the ‘Angel of Hell’, and such a description enticed many a curious onlooker.

Erik withdrew into the madness of his mind, and spent most of his days barely moving from a fetal position on the bottom of the cage. This enraged Forsythe- the crowd sizes dwindled then stopped altogether when the Angel of Hell did nothing but lie there. Forsythe poked and prodded him, and when Erik didn’t respond he beat him viciously. Erik groaned and gasped but otherwise did not move. He refused to eat, and did not stand or move to relieve himself.

  


One morning Erik was awakened by a cold splash of water on his face.

“Listen to me, you freakish bastard!” Forsythe hissed. “I paid good money for you and I will not allow you to lie here like a dead animal!” He jabbed Erik in the chest with the broom handle. “Get up! You need to wash and eat before today’s show.”

When Erik didn’t move Forsythe slammed the handle down on his ear and yelled to a nearby group of men to help him.

“When I open the cage, tie him with these ropes,” he ordered. “He is more dangerous than he looks.”

Erik heard the cage door open with a terrible squeak, then felt a harsh kick on his legs.

“Come on, filth, on your feet!”

He eyed the large man standing over him. The man kicked him again.

The man turned back to Forsythe. “You may be better off just shooting this one, Forsythe,” he scoffed.

In one swift move Erik brought his legs up and thrust them against the man’s stomach. With a cry the man fell backwards out of the cage and Erik heard his head hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Shouts and the sound of running feet filled the air as Erik rose to his feet. He staggered towards where Forsythe was standing transfixed by the cage’s open door. Just as Erik was about to close his hands around Forsythe’s neck, thick lengths of rope encircled his arms and waist and he was dragged backwards into the cage. Erik twisted and writhed against the ropes when he heard the cage door slam. He yelled and lashed out in animalistic rage at the men surrounding him. He yanked on one of the ropes and one of the men fell against the bars of the cage. Before the man could right himself, Erik grabbed the rope in the man’s hand and quickly wound it around his neck, giving it harsh twist. There was a loud pop of breaking bones and the man fell to the floor in a heap.

“Back away, back away! Leave him, leave him!” Forsythe yelled above the din.

Erik’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed, the exertion too great for his weakened body.

One of the men withdrew a knife from his waistband.

“Let me kill him,” he snarled.

“No! I haven’t received even half of what I paid for him! If I can’t get money out of him then I might as well slit my own throat! I’ll be ruined!”

 

****

 

The days passed agonizingly slow for Erik, but he refused to give Forsythe the satisfaction of a reaction to the abuse inflicted upon him. Erik’s body was often a mass of bloodied bruises as a result of Forsythe’s frustration. Despite Erik’s hopes that the man would just let him die, every day Forsythe would assemble a large group of men to tie him down so they could force food down his throat. Several of Erik’s teeth were broken in the process, but that did not stop him from fighting them with all of his strength. Several times Forsythe would leave him tied up in very uncomfortable positions, but Erik accepted it without complaint.

 

One day after another failed attempt at getting a crowd to see Erik, Forsythe had his men tie Erik down to the bottom of the cage.

“If beatings will not persuade you, maybe this will!” he growled, grabbing his groin.

The men protested and condemned him, but he shouted and cursed at them to leave as he removed his trousers. He knelt and pressed himself against Erik’s back.

“After today you will do as I say!” Forsythe yelled in Erik’s ear as he mercilessly slid inside of him.

Erik grunted and arched his back at the intense pain, then laughed. It was a harsh, bitter and cold sound, causing Forsythe to freeze. He quickly withdrew himself from Erik as Erik continued to laugh, and retreated from the warehouse as Erik’s haunting laughter echoed madly through the air.

 

****

 

“You are wasting your time, Vicomte,” Forsythe grumbled. “He is worse than useless. He hasn’t had an audience in weeks.”

Erik heard two sets of footsteps approaching his cage. He felt the familiar jab of Forsythe’s broom handle. As always, he did not move.

There was a rustle of fabric, then a muffled voice said, “Is he always kept in this state? The smell is making me sick.”

“We dare not let him out of the cage, monsieur,” Forsythe said. “We have to tie him down just to feed him.”

Erik heard the other man step closer.

“You’d best keep your distance, Vicomte, he is very violent,” Forsythe said. “Don’t let his current action fool you. He killed two men within a span of five minutes.”

Forsythe jabbed him harder.

“Stop it!”

Erik heard the broom handle clatter to the floor.

“Leave me with him.”

“What exactly are you hoping for, Vicomte? He hasn’t spoken since I first bought him, months ago.”

“Just leave me with him, please, Forsythe,” the other man said, firmly.

The more the man spoke, the more familiar his voice sounded. _I’ve heard that voice before…._

Erik heard Forsythe’s heavy footsteps depart, then silence. He could barely hear the other man breathe.

Finally the man spoke. “Erik...”

Despite his best efforts, Erik flinched. He turned his head and opened his eyes, struggling to focus on the young face staring back at him.

His brow furrowed. _It can’t be…_

Hatred and rage surged through him and he lunged towards the man, but his hand closed on empty air.

“I know how much you must hate my father, and that I am the last person you want to see... but I could not help myself when I heard you were here,” the man said.

Erik fixed him with the harshest glare he could manage.

“I bought you from Forsythe… and I want to release you… but…  I need you to promise me that you will not hurt my father.”

Erik narrowed his eyes.

“I am disgusted by what he has done, but I do not want him dead. Surely you understand that.”

Erik pushed himself into a sitting position, resting his back against the bars of the cage. The young man took a startled step back.

“You speak as if you know me, boy,” Erik growled.

He stiffened. “I know that you abused my father so badly that he could not leave his room for days! I saw it! I heard it! I know exactly what you are capable of.”

Erik laughed bitterly. “Then why waste your money on me? Why not leave me here to rot?”

“Because no one deserves this,” the young man said fervently. “No matter what they have done.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done, boy,” Erik said darkly, then began to cough, a deep and harsh rattling noise coming from deep in his chest. He coughed for several moments, and when it finally subsided he found splatters of blood on his hands. He felt a strange sort of relief at the sight of it. _Please let my death come quickly…_

“I once begged your father to let me die. Must I beg you as well?”

“Tell me what my father did to make you treat him as you have, then I may consider it,” the young man said angrily.

Erik gave another bitter laugh. “What is your name, boy?”

“Philipe.”

“What I tell you will be vastly different from what you have already heard, Philipe.”

“My father has told me nothing,” Philipe said. “I never told him of what I had seen, and when I asked him about you he told me to not mention you again.”

Erik coughed again, his body convulsing. Philipe stepped to the bars of the cage.

“I am staying at the Inn across the road. I will take you there, but I need your word that you will not pursue my father.”

Erik sighed. “Very well, I give you my word. I have not the strength to pursue him anyway.”

Philipe hesitated briefly, then unlocked the cage door. He removed his traveling cloak and heavy overcoat, handing them to Erik.

“It is close to freezing outside,” he said, helping Erik to stand. “I have more clothes at the Inn.”

Erik wrapped the coat and cloak around him, taking great care to conceal his face. He staggered against Philipe as they walked, his legs not used to the exercise. Philipe put Erik’s arm around his shoulders and his own arm around Erik’s waist.

“Just lean against me,” he said gently. “It is not much further.”

They slowly made their way to Philipe’s room, and upon arriving Erik collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily.

Philipe left the room briefly to speak with the Innkeeper.  

“I am having a bath drawn for you, and some food brought,” Philipe told Erik. “I will call for a doctor later.”

Erik closed his eyes. “No doctors,” he said wearily. “I have no need of them.”

“But-”

“No,” Erik said firmly.

Philipe took a small stool from the corner of the room and placed it next to the bed. “I have a thousand questions, Erik,” he said as he sat. “If you are not too tired, I should like to know what your connection to my father is.”

Erik opened his eyes and studied Philipe for several moments. “It was not a connection with your father, but with your mother that started it all,” he finally said. “I first heard her sing in the Opera House chapel when she was very young….”

Philipe leaned forward and listened intently while Erik relayed his position as the Opera Ghost and Angel of Music, finally discovered to be just a tortured and lonely man. He did not spare any details as he spoke of how Raoul had sought him out, and how he had treated him on their first meeting. Philipe paled, but did not interrupt him.

“I have always allowed my passions to rule my actions,” Erik said. “I had never planned to see your father again, and when I did….. my rage erupted.”

“But that was before I was born,” Philipe said. “Why abuse him again, twelve years later?”

Erik told him of the few short months of rushed encounters he and Raoul had. “I was foolish to believe that my life would be different, that I might finally be able to be happy.” He then spoke of the circumstances of him leaving France, his extensive traveling, and finally, his return to Paris to build the new Opera House.

“I did not think I would have to see your father at all,” Erik said. “I came to him that night to tell him to stay away from the building site.”

Philipe nodded, his gaze dropping to his tightly clasped hands. “The room next to my father's study is a library. It was because of the storm that I couldn’t sleep that night, and I was in the library when I heard raised voices. I went to the window, and….” he trailed off and blew out a breath. “It is not something that a twelve year old boy should see, and I have never been able to get it out of my head.”

“I hope you are not expecting an apology,” Erik said harshly. “You’ll have a long wait.”

Philipe stood and walked across the room to a small window. “I am only trying to understand it all,” he said. “Father has always been so kind and generous, and trying to comprehend how he could sell you off like chattel, like you meant nothing to him-”

“His revenge on me is complete,” Erik said. “I will die here, and he will rest peacefully knowing he has nothing to fear from me.”

There was a light knock at the door.

“I beg your pardon, monsieur, the bath is ready,” the innkeeper called.

Phillipe helped Erik down a hallway to a small room at the end. There was a roaring fire and clouds of steam filled the air above the tub. Erik hissed in pain as Phillipe helped lower him into the scalding water, but he soon became adjusted to it and relaxed against the side.

Phillipe picked up a nearby bottle and spilled a few drops of it into the bath water. The relaxing scent of lavender filled the air. He then took a piece of cloth and wet it, then rubbed a bar of soap into it.

“May I?” he asked Erik.

Erik regarded him quizzically for a few moments, then nodded.

Phillipe did not speak as he gently washed the filth from Erik’s body. As he progressed, tears came to his eyes as bruises and open sores were revealed on almost every part of Erik’s body. Finally he gestured for Erik to stand, holding up a large blanket for Erik to wrap himself in.

“How could he?” Phillipe whispered fiercely, biting his lip. “I’ll have Forsythe brought before a magistrate!”

Erik gave a harsh, rattling cough. “No. It does not matter now.”

Philipe helped Erik back to his room and lowered him to the bed, arranging the blankets around him. Erik sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

“May I get you something for your present relief? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

“A vial of morphine and a large needle are the only things I need for my relief,” Erik said darkly.

He heard Philipe gasp in shock. “But you’ll die-”

“Nothing can stop that now,” Erik said. “I would rather it be quick and painless.” He opened an eye and gazed up at the young man. “You’ve not said anything about my face. Does it not bother you in the slightest?”

Philipe met his eye fearlessly. “It is nothing short of shocking to be sure, but I find the way you have been treated by my father and Forsythe to be infinitely more disgusting.”

Erik opened both of his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “You do not feel that after everything I have done that I did not deserve the treatment?”

“I told you before, Erik,” Philipe said firmly. “No one deserves what you have been made to suffer.”

Erik closed his eyes again and did not respond. He heard Philipe leave the room and return a few minutes later.

“I brought bread, cheese, and wine,” he said, setting the plate and jug on the stool near the bed. “I am going out to see about getting you some morphine.”

Erik opened his mouth to protest but Philipe left the room quickly without another word.

 

****

 

It was an hour past dark when Philipe returned to the Inn. Having been unsuccessful in his attempt to find morphine, he found himself feeling helpless and irritated as he made his way to his room. The room was ice cold and unlit when Philipe entered, but he found Erik breathing long and deeply in sleep. Philipe lit a small candle and it cast a faint light throughout the room, illuminating Erik’s haunting face, seeming to look almost peaceful. Curiosity getting the better of him, Philipe moved the empty plate and jug off the stool and sat, hesitantly reaching out a hand to trace the mangled flesh of Erik’s cheek with his fingertips.

 _How could one live with such a deformity?_ he wondered. But the more he thought on it, the more he understood the reasoning behind Erik’s actions. _I cannot say that I would not have acted the same were I in his state._

Philipe jerked his hand away when Erik stirred and murmured in his sleep. He lay still for a short moment, then flailed his arms as if fighting off something.

“Damn you!” Erik cried out suddenly. “Curse you! I didn’t want you to see…..”

Philipe retreated from the bedside as Erik continued to thrash and cry out. At one point he let out an anguished cry and whispered, “I will never see him again.” He then turned on his side and began sobbing.

Almost without thinking, Philipe moved to the bed and sat, pulling Erik into his arms. Erik whimpered and struggled a bit, then lay still. The tears continued to flow from his eyes, and soon Philipe’s shirtfront was soaked through, but he did not release him. Kicking off his boots, Philipe slowly maneuvered himself underneath Erk on the bed, continuing to hold him tightly. Erik clenched and unclenched his fists into Philipe’s shirt, tearing it to pieces as he mumbled and cried out as if in extreme pain. Philipe’s heart broke for him, and he found himself wishing he could take some of the pain away as he cried tears of his own.

The hours of the night passed slowly for Philipe. He was only able to doze off for a few minutes before Erik would cry out and thrash against him, often hitting him hard enough to leave a bruise. It wasn’t until Philipe could see the first faint light of morning that Erik finally settled, his breathing becoming deep and even. The headboard digging into Philipe’s back was extremely uncomfortable, but he was so exhausted that he only shifted slightly to rest his chin against the top of Erik’s malformed head. He fell asleep almost instantly.

 

****

  


Philipe awoke to the strange but not altogether unpleasant sensation of the hairs on his chest being lightly fondled, a warm hand resting among them. He slowly opened his eyes to see the room brightly lit with warm sunshine. The hand on his chest stilled, and Erik rose on an elbow to look at him. His eyes were red and swollen, and Philipe thought he could see in them an infinite amount of sadness. Philipe’s gaze wandered over the ghastly flesh of Erik’s face, settling finally on his thin white lips. He pushed himself up and leaned forward, his eyes focusing solely on Erik’s mouth. His heart pounded in his chest and his breath caught as he felt his stomach twist with forbidden desire. He brought his fingers up to Erik’s jaw and gently lifted, their lips meeting for the briefest of seconds. The fire that filled Philipe’s body was wholly unexpected, and he let out a weak groan as he felt his body respond. He then felt Erik’s firm hand on his chest, pushing him back into the bed.

Erik slowly deepened the kiss as his hand traveled down Philipe’s body to the belt of his trousers, then beneath them to what he knew he would find. He touched him gently, for some strange reason feeling the need to reciprocate what Philipe had done for him. He broke the kiss, his lips wandering to Philipe’s neck, then down to the various bruises dotting his chest and arms. Philipe clenched his fists into the blankets as his body tensed suddenly, then he let out a gasping cry as hot stickiness burst from him. Erik smiled into the sweaty flesh of Philipe’s chest as Philipe’s body convulsed and he stroked him to completion.

“Erik, I’m sorry I-”

Erik pushed himself up and rested his head against Philipe’s sweaty forehead. “Shsh,” he whispered. He then lowered himself to rest on his elbow at Philipe’s side, and began running his fingers lightly across his groin and chest, pausing briefly over each of the gray and purple bruises.

“Did I do this?” Erik asked.

Philipe could only nod as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“How?”

Philipe looked at him and said, “Nightmares. They were terrible.”

Erik traced a circle on Philipe’s navel. “I do not remember it.”

“I was away longer than I expected because I was unable to find morphine for you,” Philipe explained. “Shortly after I returned you started screaming…. I could not just stand by and watch you suffer.”

Erik said nothing, but continued to trace patterns on Philipe’s chest.

“Erik, as soon as my father hears of what I have done, he will not rest until he finds us,” Philipe said. “If he finds you alive he will either kill you or make certain that you are back in one of Forsythe’s cages.”

“Then why not just kill me yourself?” Erik asked.

When Philipe did not answer, Erik looked at him and smirked. “Innocent in more ways than one, I see.”

Color filled Philipe’s face as he turned away from Erik. He groaned as his stiff muscles protested the movement. He rose awkwardly from the bed and with halting steps walked towards a small bureau upon which was resting a jug of water and a porcelain bowl. He filled the bowl then gasped as he began to splash the icy cold water onto his face and neck. He used the remains of his shirt to wipe himself off, then dressed in his jacket and traveling cloak. He left the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.

 

****

 

When Philipe returned to the room some hours later he found Erik asleep again, but he saw plainly the dried blood near his nose, mouth, and staining his hands. A gurgling noise came from his throat as he breathed. Philipe sat on the edge of the bed and shook him gently.

Erik began coughing as soon as he awoke, spraying droplets of blood across the blankets covering him. When his coughing finally subsided, he collapsed against the pillows, gasping for air.

“I did not think you would return,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Philipe reached into a pocket of his jacket, removed a bundle of cloth, and handed it to Erik. Erik unrolled it and a vial of cloudy liquid and a large needle tumbled out.

Erik coughed again, then said, “Is it out of pity that you aid me, or some sick sadistic impulse?” He grabbed the vial and made to fling it away from him, but his fist was caught by Philipe’s staying hand.

“If you destroy that vial then I _will_ kill you myself, Erik,” he said angrily. “It was not easy for me to find.”

Philipe took the vial from Erik, walked to the bureau and placed it on top of it. “And it is not pity but compassion that has motivated my actions. There is a world of difference between the two.”

“But were you not curious enough about my fate that you sought me out?” Erik accused. “Motivated more by curious desire than compassion, I am sure.”

Philipe folded his arms and shook his head, giving a small laugh. “Have you always been this insufferable? You irritate me to the point of infuriation.”

Erik gave him a cold look. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual. Just like your father, as insistent as a fly over waste, determined to inject yourself into my life whether I like it or not.”

Philipe shook his head again, the slight amusement never leaving his expression. “Again, you have it all wrong.” He picked up the vial and walked back to Erik, holding it out to him. “You said you wanted your exit of this world to be quick and painless. Take this and I will leave you to it.”

Erik took the vial from him and stared at it for a few moments.

Philipe turned to leave the room but Erik caught his sleeve before he could do so.

“If you were truly motivated by compassion, then I must ask you to do one more thing,” Erik said.

Philipe nodded and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Will you stay with me?”

Philipe raised his eyebrows in question.

“I have wanted and wished for this moment for longer than I can remember,” Erik said. “But now that I am faced with it…. I suppose that it is the fear of the unknown that frightens me.”

Philipe nodded, then moved the small stool next to the bed as Erik prepared the needle. Philipe watched in shock as Erik plunged the needle into a vein on his right arm without hesitation. Erik gave a little grunt of pain, then fell back into the bed. He turned on his side and held out his hand. Philipe took it, and Erik held on to him tightly.

“Do you believe in God, Philipe?” Erik asked suddenly.

“I suppose,” Philipe said, shrugging. “I have not given it serious thought.”

“Do you believe in hell, then?”

“I have always understood hell to be a state of mind, rather than a place,” Philipe said. “But I do not believe that you will be made to suffer for eternity over circumstances beyond your choosing.”

Erik seemed to find comfort in the answer. He sighed softly and closed his eyes.

Soon Erik’s thoughts became muddled, and his limbs went numb. “Philipe,” he said slowly, his tongue thick in his mouth. “One last thing… spread my ashes at my Opera House. Please.”

Philipe squeezed Erik’s hand tightly, though he could no longer feel it. “I will, Erik, I promise,” Philipe said, his voice breaking.

Erik’s breathing slowed to almost nothing, then he gasped out, “Christine…my Christine...” and breathed no more.

Philipe brushed his fingertips over Erik’s dead eyes, then covered him with a blanket. Just as Philipe was leaving the room he heard the loud clatter of horse hooves and a familiar voice shouting demands. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and squared his shoulders, then walked towards the front of the Inn.

When Raoul saw him he grabbed a fistful of his jacket. “I cannot believe that you would do this! Where is he?”

Philipe could not help the stony glare he gave him. “He is dead, father. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

An incomprehensible look passed across Raoul’s face. “I don’t believe you. Take me to him.”

Without a word Philipe turned on his heel and led the way to his room. He opened the door and stood aside as Raoul entered and approached the bed. Philipe watched Raoul’s body tense as he lifted a corner of the blanket, then let it fall just as quickly. He stood silently for several moments, his fists clenching and unclenching as he looked down at the outline of Erik’s still form under the blanket.

“Did you let him fuck you?”

Raoul spoke so softly that Philipe barely heard him.

“What?”

Raoul whirled around and backhanded Philipe across the face. “Insolent boy!” He grabbed the lapels of Philipe’s jacket and pushed him back against the wall. “Did you let him fuck you?! Did you willingly give yourself to him right there in that bed?!”

Philipe frowned at his father’s coarse language and fixed him with an icy stare. “I gave him basic human decency, which is more than I can say for you.”

He twisted out of Raoul’s grasp and walked to the bed. Bending over it, he retrieved the empty vial and needle, then held them out for Raoul to see. “And I did not make him beg for it.”

Philipe saw his father's jaw work back and forth, but he remained silent.

“His last request was that I spread his ashes at his Opera House,” Philipe said. “You cannot deny him that.”

“I do not owe him anything!” Raoul shouted.

“This is not about cheques and balances, father, it is about honoring a man’s dying wish!” Philipe retaliated. “And I know he meant more to you than what you are showing.”

Raoul’s eyes narrowed and he raised his hand to again strike Philipe, but the young man caught his arm and forced it back to his side.

“He told me everything, father. _Everything_.”

Raoul could not stand his son’s burning stare and looked away. They stood in silence for several moments, then Raoul moved to the doorway.

“I do not want to speak of this again,” he said firmly, not looking at Philipe. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, father,” Philipe said.

“Then do what you need to do. I expect you back at the estate tomorrow.” Raoul exited the room swiftly and soon Philipe heard the front door of the Inn slam shut.

 

****

 

In the early evening of the following day, Philipe stepped from his cab and stood gazing up at the grand Opera Populaire. It sparkled like king's treasure in the bright sunlight. He was met at the door by one of the managers, who then escorted him to the roof of building.

“Take as much time as you need, Monsieur le Vicomte,” the man said, bowing.

Philipe nodded his appreciation at the man as he departed. He then took his time wandering to each corner of the building, marveling at everything that met his eyes. When the final rays of light were descending in the west, Philipe pulled a small tin box from his jacket. He pressed his lips to the lid, then lifted and tipped it, allowing the ashes within to scatter across the rooftop. He blinked back the sudden tears in his eyes and looked up at the first sprinkling of stars across the moonless sky.

_May you rest peacefully, Erik._

  
  
  
  
  


**_~Fin~_ **

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. That's that. Did you like it? Hate it? Barely tolerate it? Please let me know. Reviews keep me alive.
> 
> ~PJ


End file.
